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Book .C.. *2.44 

Gopteht N°_ Ea,_ 

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COPYRIGHT DEPOSrr. 


























EIGHT BELL 







EIGHT BELLS 

(.Revised Edition ) 

BY 

EDWARD CHAMPE CARTER 

M 

AUTHOR OF “THE LONE SCOUT,” 

“a marine, sir!” ETC. 



1923 

THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING COMPANY 

BOSTON 








Copyright, 1922 

By THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING COMPANY 
Copyright, 1923 

By THE CORNHILL PUBLISHING COMPANY 


Printed in the United States of America 

THE JORDAN & MORE PRESS 
BOSTON 

MAY -5 ’23 

©C1A704530 

'K 6 j 


DEDICATED TO H. B. B., JR. 

THE “ PAT DEAN ” OF THIS TALE 

In school-boy holidays do you remember 

How, when the hours seemed long, the 
tales of joy 

An older fellow told in warm September 

To one brown eyed, enthusiastic boy? 

Sea tales of polar snows, where brightly 
flashes 

The wond’rous Northern Light. And 
wrecks galore— 

Or some key where the warm Caribbean 
crashes; 

Some * Treasure Island ’ rich in pirate 
lore. 

You were that youngster full of wide-eyed 
wonder, 

I was the fellow—Ah, time goes and 
comes! 

So take this book of mine, pass o’er each 
blunder, 

Each crudity. Remember, we were chums. 























CONTENTS 


Chapter Page 

How It Happened. ix 

I. “ For the Islands of the Blest . 1 

II. The Spanish Main. 11 

III. The Coasts. 21 

IV. The Black Cross. 27 

V. The Right Sort. 36 

VI. The Lady of the Presidencia. 44 

VII. “The Merry Men’’. 53 

VIII. Again the Black Cross. 61 

IX. “ Mr. Mandarin ”. 73 

X. At the Sign of the Red Table Cloth 88 

XI. “ Yon Rising Moon ”. 99 

XII. Eight Bells. 109 

XIII. The Prisoners. 115 

XIV. The Pirate Boy. 122 

XV. “ Ships that Pass in the Night ”... 132 

XVI. Of Cathedral Cloisters, of the 
Yangtsze-Kiang and of a Peiho 

Junk. 148 

XVII. “ Auld Robin Gray ”. 159 

XVIII. The Bungalow among the Poin- 

settias. 163 

XIX. “Yellow Jack’’. 171 

XX. “ A Good Little Devil ”. 177 

XXL “The Conquered Banner”. 189 

XXII. “ De Profundis ”. 195 

XXIII. Homeward Bound!. 200 

XXIV. “Ben Bo Bohns”. 214 

XXV. When East Meets West. 240 

XXVI. Anchors Aweigh!. 258 



























HOW IT HAPPENED 


Ahoy, lone sailor! what of the voyage? * 

‘ I’ve neither chart nor hearings, friend.’ 

‘ Ahoy, lone sailor! what of the voyage?’ 

‘ I’ve passed the care o’ caring, friend.’ ” 

(—Old Song.) 

Three sailor men, their clothes showed 
that, sat in a big basement room under the 
shop of Liang Fu & Son, Importers from 
the Orient, in a side street just off one of 
New York’s most swirling thoroughfares. 
One was quite a young man, his body 
hidden under oily dungarees, the tiny, 
black felt skull cap of a machinist on his 
curly, dark brown head, and a smudge of 
grease across the bridge of his turned up 
nose. They called him Andy, here in the 
basement room, where, by-the-way, last 
names were rarely mentioned. Of the 
other two, one was only a few years older 
than the boy in the dungarees (he was 
eighteen), and the third was in his early 
fifties. All three were smoking, all three 


IX 


X 


EIGHT BELLS 


were drinking, and all three showed a 
general sort of restlessness as if they had 
been waiting for a long time for some 
important event that kept on putting itself 
off. At last Andy began cursing, with as 
much gruffness as he could assume, the 
object of his displeasure being a slim, red 
headed boy of fifteen, or sixteen, who lay 
huddled on the cement floor, sobbing. 

“ That Wes’ kid makes me feel creepy, 
Alf,” he said a bit apologetically, to the 
oldest man. “ Can’t you make him shut 
up? What’s makin’ Wes’ bawl, anyhow? ” 
“ Why, you see, Andy,” Alf answered 
slowly, beginning to pick his words with 
elaborate care, “ Kum-Sin—the Master, I 
mean—he aint jus’ exactly pleased with 
Wes’. He aint earnin’ his salt, an’ his 
boy’s voice is a’breakin’, (an’ we all of us 
knows how the Master loves music), an— 
well! Wes’ felled down terrible on this 
last job, an’—” 

“ ’D’ afternoon, all hands! ” 

A boy of fourteen, splendidly husky for 
his age, with a jolly, mischievous, brown 
face under a regular mop of straight, brown 



HOW IT HAPPENED 


xi 


hair, more or less pranced into the basement 
room. His clothes were very nice. His 
Norfolk jacket, his baggy knickers, the 
black stockings that hid his round, solid 
legs, even his shoes were of the very best, 
though nothing was so new as to appear 
“ dressed up.” Altogether, he was a big 
contrast to the sailormen at the table, and 
the older boy on the floor. 

He was received with real enthusiasm, 
slapped on his sturdy, plump back, shaken 
hands with any number of times, and then 
helped to a cup of very wonderful, Chinese 
tea, handed him by a skinny, chattering 
Oriental named Poy. 

“ Gee, but this is great! ” the husky 
fourteen-year-old grinned, curling up in a 
big, teakwood armchair, and helping him¬ 
self from a great, bronze bowl of lychee 
nuts, whose musty sweetness he seemed to 
love. 

u Any luck, Master Tom? " the oldest 
sailor, Alf, asked eagerly, pushing a satsuma 
sugar bowl a bit nearer the youngster’s 
strong, boyishly plump paw. 

The boy burst out laughing: 


Xll 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Luck? ” he chuckled, a most engagingly 
open swagger showing at once. “ Luck? 
Gee whiz! The Master says Eve done fine. 
It was awful lonesome crossin’ from South¬ 
ampton, though, and He had told me not 
to be too pally with anybody, and to play I 
was seasick, so—” 

A roar of laughter from the three sailors 
interrupted him. 

“ Gosh! think of Master Tom gettin’ 
seasick!” young Andy shouted. “Couldn’t 
do it if you tried, could you, sir? ”—all 
three men addressed the boy in the baggy 
knickers with really deep affection, but 
with a sort of respect, too, as servants 
might address their master’s son. 

“ ’Course not, Andy,” Tom grinned, 
“ but they thought I was, on board that 
Cunarder. And wasn’t I lonesome? You 
bet I was! But say! Kum-S— Gosh! the 
Master , I mean—says I can tell you fellows 
now, so listen! That millionaire kid was on 
board, sure ’nough. He an’ his tutor had 
the swellest suite on the ship. He’s ten 
years old. The tutor’s ’bout twenty-two— 
a girl told me that. The girls on board 



HOW IT HAPPENED 


xm 


were pretty silly about that tutor, and he 
is good lookin’, all right. And the way 
they’d pet that ten-year-old, and fuss over 
him, was fun! He and his tutor, and his 
mother are sailing for the Isthmus next 
week; Panama Railroad liner, not the 
Royal Mail, nor the Hamburg-American— 
and—Say, Alf! Ever see that P. R. R. 
liner, the “Colon.” 

44 Yep! ” 

“ What’s she like? ” 

“ W—well, she’ll do, Master Tom! A 
tidy ship, I’d say, but groggy.” 

“ Well, you’re shippin’ on her—before 
the mast. Did you know? ” 

“ I aint surprised, Master Tom. That 
millionaire kid’ll be on board, eh? ” 

“ Yes. And Alf! ” the fourteen-year- 
old’s round, pert face was grave now, “He 
says you’re to take the knife along. He 
sailed ’bout an hour ago on the “ Dagmar,” 
and she’s to go ’round through the Straits, 
and then up the coast to you-know-where, 
though Hell leave her at Cristobal, or 
maybe stop off at Jamaica, and take a Royal 
Mail the rest of the way. But, anyhow, He 



XIV 


EIGHT BELLS 


told me not to forget to tell you to take the 
knife.” 

“ Thought so! ” from the old sailor, 
quite grimly. 

A new fit of crying shook the boy on the 
floor—he had been quiet since Tom’s 
appearance—and he lifted his tousled, 
red head, and looked at Alf in panic, his 
freckled face, usually peach blossom as to 
skin color, now a sickly, grayish white. 

“ What’s the matter with you, Wes’? ” 
Tom asked, his manner to the older boy 
being somewhat that of a young Crown 
Prince to a nice enough ‘Squire in his 
royal father’s court. 

And then the two younger sailors chimed 
in. 

“ Yes, what’s bitin’ you, Wes’? ” in 
considerable indignation, from Andy, and: 

“ Did the Master lick you, ’fore he sailed, 
Wes’? ” from the next youngest seaman. 

“ Aw, shut up, Wes’, and come on over 
here and have some tea,” Tom coaxed, 
thoroughly friendly now. “ And say! I 
got a mango Poy gave me jus’ now. Have 
my mango, Wes’? ” 



HOW IT HAPPENED 


xv 


Weston Blain—that was Wes’ full name— 
got to his feet, and started over. He had 
on nothing but a pair of duck sailor pants, 
for the room was very hot, and his body was 
quite naked from the waist upward. He 
started across to the table, and as he did so, 
lifted one lean, white arm and tried to wipe 
off some of the tears from his face. The 
result was magical. 

Tom jumped to his legs, his round, saucy 
face turning white under its smooth coating 
of healthy tan, the whole boy evidently 
horrified, and badly scared, too. He upset 
his chair in his haste, and it fell to the hard 
floor with a crash, and he vaulted behind it, 
squaring off truculently, his tough, brown 
fists doubled up. 

“ The Cross! Aw, Gee, fellows! The 
Black Cross of Taboga! Don’t you come 
near me, Wes’ Blain! ” he screamed, his 
slightly protuberant, young stomach rising 
and falling in quick, badly frightened pants. 
“ You k—keep away from me, you! I—I 
got my China boy knife in my knickers 
here, an’ I’ll fix you if you come any nearer. 
Honest! ” and he whipped out a small, 


i 



XVI 


EIGHT BELLS 


stiletto-like knife, with a short, double- 
edged blade, and stood ready to use it, 
undoubtedly. 

The two younger sailors were to the full 
as excited as Tom, and the three of them 
more or less crouched together now behind 
the overturned chair, all with their knives 
ready in their hands, and all glaring un¬ 
easily at poor, half naked Wes’, who, more 
wretched than ever, snuggled his red head 
in his bare arms and began to sob again, 
harder than ever. Only old Alf was calm. 

“ Might just as well show ’em your arm- 
pit good, Wes’,” he said quietly. “Yes, 
mates, it’s that Black Cross o’ Taboga on the 
kid’s skin. I put it there to-day. That’s 
what he’s been cryin’ for. Didn’t bleed 
one bit, neither. The knife’s workin’ 
beautiful. Yep, you’re done for, Wes’! 
Come along out o’ here, Master Tom. An’ 
I’m to take the same knife I wrote that 
there cross on Wes’ damp, little armpit 
with, ’long with me aboard S.S. “ Colon,” 
you say, sir? Right it is! So ’long, Wes’. 
You aint been a bad, little matey for a kid. 
Hold up, boys! Master Tom’s cryin’. 


HOW IT HAPPENED 


XVII 


I wouldn’t do that, sir. The Master knows 
what’s what, if we don’t. I never forgets 
that. And,” with a cold shrug, “ the cross’s 
the cross, always .” 

























CHAPTER I 


“ FOR THE ISLANDS OF THE 

BLEST ” 

But spite all modern notions, I've found her first and 
best — 

The only certain packet for the islands of the blest." 

(—Rudyard Kipling.) 

“ All ashore that’s going ashore! ” 

The year was Nineteen-Five, and at this 
cry from the shouting deck-stewards, the 
mass of people on the main cabin deck of 
the Panama Railroad Company’s twin-screw 
liner “ Colon ” began to divide itself into 
two crowds, one set made up of voyagers, 
packed the rails both on the main deck and, 
though in less numbers, on the promenade 
deck, while the other, composed of home 
people, began scurrying for the slanting 
gangways that led to the pier. The “Colon ” 
was one of the typical steamers that run 
between New York and South America; her 
black hull showed in striking contrast to the 
white enamel of her superstructure, the 


1 


2 


EIGHT BELLS 


smooth hardwood of her lower decks and 
the broad expanse of her promenade deck, 
shaded by white awnings, blending with the 
whiteness of her canvas covered life-boats. 
Above the decks rose her two, huge, black 
funnels with a wide, white stripe near the 
top, and over all the two masts of golden 
Oregon pine lifted themselves rakishly. At 
the bow hung the red and white flag of the 
Republic of Panama, with its two stars. 
From the foremast the company’s ensign, 
white with a black “ P.” From the main¬ 
mast the ‘‘blue Peter”, and from the slender, 
gilt tipped staff at the stern floated the Stars 
and Stripes. 

The heat on deck was terrific, and, though 
it was cooler in the saloon or the smoking 
room, almost everyone persisted in staying 
outside. After the last person reached the 
dock, and the two impudent looking little 
tugs had brought the “ Colon ” from her 
berth out into the North River, the people on 
board and the people on shore set up the 
usual handkerchief waving, hat tipping, last 
message shouting, that is apparently insepa¬ 
rable from the departure of a steamer. 


“ FOR THE ISLANDS OF THE BLEST ” 3 


As the big liner swung into the channel, 
the tugs dropped her and, moving ahead at 
half speed, with an occasional gruff blast 
from her whistles, or a shrill scream of 
warning from her siren as some venture¬ 
some ferry-boat crossed her bows, she picked 
her way for the “ Narrows.” 

Standing on the promenade deck, just 
amidships, was a husky, clear skinned young 
fellow of seventeen. He was well grown for 
his age, not especially tall, but muscular and 
solid and thoroughly fit from his broad 
shouldered, deep chested young body to the 
soles of his rather big feet. The healthy 
pink and white of his face showed a few 
cheerful little freckles, especially over the 
bridge of his straight nose. His eyes were 
a dark blue, with a good-natured kindliness 
in them. The hair on his yellow head was 
slicked back smoothly from his forehead. 
The whole boy was rather big, well built, and 
yet a trifle clumsy, as if he was still too 
young to be entirely used to his own size. On 
the back of this yellow head of his he wore 
a small school cap, such as boys used to call 
“ postage stamps,” a dark blue affair with a 


4 


EIGHT BELLS 


white “ N ” on the front. His blue serge trou¬ 
sers fitted his big legs loosely, and his soft 
white outing shirt, with its sleeves rolled up 
above his elbows, seemed to accentuate his 
pleasant, frank boyishness. A red four-in- 
hand tie was knotted under the soft roll of 
the collar, giving a funny little touch of 
swagger, and on his feet were a pair of soft, 
tan shoes with rubber soles and “ spring ” 
heels. The whole of the big youngster radi¬ 
ated good health, clean wholesomeness of 
both body and thoughts; as kind and sweet- 
tempered a boy as he was tough and 
husky. 

As he stood, with his legs wide apart, 
looking at the wonderful, ugly skyline of 
New York, its one redeeming feature the 
small glimpse of green along the Battery, 
his eyes danced, and the gravity of his young 
face altered to a look of absolute rapture. 

“ Gee! ” he said aloud, “ It’s dandy! Just 
bet you there isn’t another middie in our 
class on his first vacation—why I bet there 
never has been a second-classman since 
Annapolis started—that’s going to have the 
bully time I’m going to have on my fur- 


“ FOR THE ISLANDS OF THE BLEST ” 5 

lough! Well, I’ve waited two years for it, 
and will I make the most of it?—I will! On 
a bet! ” 

“ Why yes, young man,” said a pleasant, 
deep voice at his elbow, “ I really believe you 
will.” 

The Midshipman glanced up with a blush 
at the person beside him. He saw a young 
man of twenty-two or three, fully six feet in 
height, and broad in proportion. He was 
particularly good-looking in a blonde way, 
and possessed a most charming smile, and 
there was a quiet heartiness to his deep voice 
that was both friendly and reassuring. His 
clothes were those of a young fellow with 
plenty of money, but their perfection was 
evidently due more to the finesse of his 
tailors than to any thought that he himself 
put on them. As he stood, laughing good- 
naturedly down at the startled young Mid¬ 
shipman, his legs rather wide apart, bal¬ 
ancing himself to the roll of the ship, which 
was beginning to gain motion as she nosed 
into the more open water, he seemed to the 
boy to be quite entirely the right sort. 


6 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ I—I didn’t think there was a soul on this 
side of the ship,” the youngster explained 
shyly. “ All hands—everybody, I mean— 
seemed to be on the port side, most of ’em 
on the lower deck. I don’t generally solilo¬ 
quize; honest I don’t.” 

“ Well, I’m glad you did this once, any¬ 
how,” the man answered, “because it ought 
to help us to be friends while we’re on board. 
You see, you’ve more or less introduced 
yourself already, all but your name, and as 
we’ve got from six to seven days of this be¬ 
fore us, I’d be glad if you’d tell me that. My 
own name, by the way, is Spenway, Archie 
Spenway, and I’m just now acting as tutor 
for a little rich chap, Billy vanZandt.” 

“ Oh, he’s the kid whose picture was in 
the papers such a lot last Autumn, isn’t he, 
Mr. Spenway? ” the Middie interrupted. 
“ I remember it said he was only heir to 
William Sturvisant vanZandt’s money, and it 
spoke of him as being the richest kid in the 
United States-” 

“ Or anywhere else, for that matter. He’s 
not William vanZandt’s son, you know. He’s 
his grandson. You’ll find him a fine young- 



“ FOR THE ISLANDS OF THE BLEST ” 7 

ster, all things considered, though since he’s 
had a year at Eton he’s about one-half 
Johnny Bull. But there! You see I’ve told 
you a lot about myself, so I’ve 1 soliloquized’ 
as much as you— and you haven’t told me 
your name yet.” 

“ That’s right, so I haven’t. I’m sorry. 
My name’s Don, Donald I mean, Donald 
Stockbridge, and you already know I’m a 
second year man at the Naval Academy. On 
my first furlough, you see. We get one at 
the end of our two years.” 

“ Do you know many people on the 
Isthmus? ” 

“ Oh, no sir. Not a soul. I’m taking this 
trip ’cause I want to know how it feels on 
the high seas. I’ve not done much real, sure 
’nough boating, I don’t count the work we 
do on the Severn, and out on Chesapeake 
Bay, and—oh, well, I guess you’ll laugh at 
me, Mr. Spenway—but I’ve always been just 
about crazy to see how things were on the 
Spanish Main, the Bahamas, and Porte au 
Prince, and Cartagena, and all that. This 
ain’t an expensive trip, and so here I am.” 




8 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Yay, Mr. Archie! ” a high, childish voice 
broke in, and a small boy came racing toward 
them from the one cabin which opened on 
the promenade deck, the only “ cabin de 
luxe ” the “ Colon ” possessed. 

He was a rather delicate looking young¬ 
ster, with a mass of thick, fluffy yellow hair, 
big brown eyes, eyes that somehow suggested 
an alert little puppy-dog, and, like the Mid¬ 
die, the clear pink and whiteness of his skin 
showed some freckles. In spite of the almost 
delicate frailty of the small body, there was 
somehow a sturdiness about the way he 
stood, with his hands thrust deep into the 
pockets of his knickers, his thin legs wide 
apart like his tutor’s, that was manly and 
attractive. He was evidently quite at home 
on a ship, and already in full possession of 
his sea legs. 

He glanced up at Don with a shy, friendly 
smile, and then turned again to his tutor: 

“ I say, Mr. Archie,” he asked, “ain’t we 
lifted Sandy Hook yet? Lemme git on the 
rail an’ see if I can spot that old dory waitin’ 
for the pilot.” 


“ FOR THE ISLANDS OF THE BLEST ” 9 

“ Can't right now, old man," the tutor 
answered. “ I've got to see about our places 
at table. Your mother won't like it one little 
bit if she knows I've let it wait this long." 

“ But Mr. Archie, I'll only stand up on 

the railin' a minute, an'-" 

“ I'll hold on to him, Mr. Spenway," Don 
struck in. “ That is, if you think you can 
trust him to me." 

“ All right, and thank you. Go ahead then, 
Billy," Archie smiled. “ Swing on tight to 
him, Don—or is it to be Mr. Stockbridge? " 
“ Oh! it better be Don, hadn’t it, sir? " 

“ Why, of course it had, since you're will¬ 
ing. Billy-boy, this young man is a naval 
cadet. Make friends quick. I'm off to have 
a heart-to-heart talk with the Purser. Don't 
let my youngster fall overboard, Don," and 
he disappeared inside. 

Don gave Billy his hand and the small boy 
swung himself onto the top of the railing 
like a little monkey. Once up he took off 
his tiny, sky-blue cap, with a white “ E" on it, 
and handed it to the Middie. 

“ Hold on to my cap, will you please? " he 
said. “ I wouldn't lose it for something 



10 


EIGHT BELLS 


pretty. No, sir! The Captain of our school 
gave me that for cricket, an’ he’s a big fel¬ 
low, I tell you,” and as he held his tough little 
body straight, Don’s arm around his knees, 
with the breeze rumpling his yellow hair, he 
added: “ It’s just rippin’, isn’t it? Just! And 
there’s the old light ship, an’ there’s the dory, 
an’—an’, oh, I say, Mr. Midshipman-man, 
there’s the Atlantic Ocean! An’ aw Gee! 
Ain't she a-jumpin’ an’ a-friskin’? It’s goin’ 
to be some trip! ” 

“ Well, young ’un,” the Middie answered, 
“ I sure hope it will be. It’s my first trip.” 

“Oh, I say! Is it, though? Well, I just 
know it’ll be bully.” 

“ It isn’t your first ocean voyage then, is it, 
Billy?” 

“ No, sir. It’s my tenth.” 

“ You don’t say so! Hully Gee! ” 


CHAPTER II 


THE SPANISH MAIN 

r ' 1 remember the sea fight far away, 

How it thunder d o'er the tide! 

And the dead sea captains as they lay, 

In their graves o’ erlooking the tranquil bay. 

Where they in battle died. 

And the sound of that mournful song 
Goes through me with a thrill: 

‘A boy’s will is the wind’s will. 

And the thoughts of youth are long, long thoughts.’ ” 

( —Henry W. Longfellow.) 

It has been said by a certain famous writer 
that, in the closet of every family, no matter 
how high its standing, there can always be 
found a skeleton, a social Pariah and the 
family of William Sturvisant vanZandt was 
no exception to this rule. In fact they were 
in possession of a more than usually annoy¬ 
ing bit of fleshless framework, in that, added 
to its own peculiar horror as a skeleton, was 
the fact that it assumed at times the appear¬ 
ance of a dark horse. 

Old Mr. vanZandt had had two children, 
a boy and a girl, the latter just about as silly 


11 


12 


EIGHT BELLS 


and light headed as a girl could well be. The 
former was Billy’s father, heir to the old 
gentleman’s millions until his death three 
years before this story begins, when the 
small boy stepped in in natural line for the 
inheritance. The daughter had, at the age 
of eighteen, run away from boarding school 
and joined a comic opera troupe, for which 
she had been very promptly disinherited. 
Nothing more had been heard of her, except 
that she had married, and had had one child, 
a son. Nothing else was known, not even the 
name of the boy’s father. 

It was following the news of this child’s 
birth that old Mr. vanZandt had urged his 
son, then quite a young man, to marry pretty 
Evelyn Patton, the last of an old Virginia 
family. For four years after the marriage 
the couple remained childless, but in the fifth 
year a little son was born, and was christened 
William, after his Grandfather, who became 
his devoted slave forthwith. When William 
was about seven years old his father died, 
and his Grandfather’s love for him seemed 
to increase, and yet Evelyn vanZandt, the 
small boy’s mother, could not help feeling 


THE SPANISH MAIN 


13 


apprehensive for fear her sister-in-law’s son 
might put in an appearance and so wean the 
old gentleman from her own boy. Few people 
knew of this fear, but one of the few that 
did know was the small boy’s tutor, and now, 
as he paced up and down the deck on the 
third night out, he thought of the many hys¬ 
terical accounts he had heard from Billy’s 
mother, and as he thought, he puffed slowly 
at his short, briarwood pipe, and, with the 
winds blowing in his face, he would now and 
then glance at the blue blackness of the 
horizon for a sight of the Southern Cross, 
for he had promised to show it to Don as 
soon as it rose. 

The voyage, so far, had been a lively one, 
and the Atlantic had handsomely realized 
Master Billy’s description of it, for it had 
kept up its “ jumpin’ an’ friskin’ ” with the 
utmost zeal. So sportive did it become, in 
fact, after the “ Colon ” had passed Barne- 
gat and was a couple of hundred miles off 
Hatteras, that in most of the staterooms 
those nice, little, yellow lacquered boxes with 
the hinged lids, that steamboat companies so 
thoughtfully place beside each berth, were in 


14 


EIGHT BELLS 


great demand. Don had had a short siege 
of this distressing “ mal de mer,” and it was 
with no little shame that he admitted it. The 
fact that his friend, the big tutor, had not 
been ill for a moment, was not particularly 
galling, for, somehow, he was the type of 
fellow you just knew would never be sick, 
but the knowledge that little, ten year old 
Billy “ hadn’t missed a meal,” to use his own 
expression, was not so easy to swallow. And 
yet, in spite of it all, a close friendship had 
sprung up between the small boy and the 
Midshipman and so great was the former’s 
rejoicing when Don had gained his sea legs 
and could tramp ’round the deck with Archie 
Spenway and himself between “ coffee ” and 
eight o’clock breakfast. 

Only two things marred Billy’s pleasure. 
The first was that while he sat on the Cap¬ 
tain’s right hand, between that officer and 
his mother, with the tutor on his left, Don 
sat at one of the long tables presided over by 
the First Officer. The only other people at 
the Captain’s table were an old gentleman, 
the Governor General of the Canal Zone, re¬ 
turning from a six weeks’ leave, and his 


THE SPANISH MAIN 15 

Grace, the Lord Bishop of the Bahamas, 
who, with his curly headed, impishly jolly 
son (a lad of fifteen), made up the august 
company. The other thorn in the little chap’s 
side was the fact that his “ Mater,” as he 
called her in true English school-boy fashion, 
would not leave her cabin except at meal 
time as, after glancing just once at the pas¬ 
senger list, and having seen “ that absolutely 
nobody was on board,” as she told her maid, 
she preferred to sleep and read. She ap¬ 
peared, as I have said, at meals, for she was 
an excellent sailor, and no one, no matter 
how blase, is willing to bear the stigma of 
sea-sickness unnecessarily. Now, while the 
tutor walked the deck with his pipe and 
his thoughts for company, the youngster 
urged his mother to “ come on out an’ see 
Don.” 

“ You say you like Pat, Mater,” he 
pleaded, referring to the Bishop’s son, “ an’ 
he ain’t half so nice as Don; not half.” 

“ Now, Billikins,” his mother yawned, “ I 
don’t doubt that the boy is nice enough, but 
I certainly do not intend going out to meet 
him, so run along and find Mr. Spenway and 


i6 


EIGHT BELLS 


talk to him, though you really ought to be in 
bed; it is scandalous how late you stay up. 
Now run along, dear.” 

Billy walked out onto the deck with rather 
a dejected air but, seeing his tutor and Don 
standing under the bridge, he cheered up and 
joined them. 

The four stars of the Southern Cross were 
still a little pale, while the twin stars above 
it, forming what is sometimes known as “ the 
crown,” twinkled more clearly. The fifth star 
that lies between the lower point and one of 
the two stars that form the cross bar, was 
so dim as to be hardly visible. 

“ I wish we could have had a look at Wat- 
ling’s Island, but we passed it too early this 
morning,” the tutor was saying as the small 
boy joined them. 

“ Well, for me, I’m jolly glad we didn’t,” 
Billy grinned, “ ’cause you’d have asked me 
ever so many questions ’bout it; when Colum¬ 
bus discovered it, an’, an’ you just know, Mr. 
Archie, I can’t remember dates; an’ then 
Don would have laughed at me, ’cause 
Annapolis fellows know everything.” 


THE SPANISH MAIN 


17 


“ I wish I thought it! ” Don laughed. “ But 
I would have liked to see the island. When'll 
we be off-" 

“ Oh, I say, Don! " Billy interrupted, real 
trouble in his voice, “ you ain't goin' to talk 
Geography, are you? 'Cause, if you are, 
I-" 

“ Why, you little monkey," Don answered, 
as he smiled down at him, “ all I was going 
to ask Mr. Archie was when we’ll be off 
Haiti. And," he added with a grin, as he 
lifted the small boy to his shoulder, “ they 
say some of the niggers there eat folks. 
Honest! You're sort of skinny, Billikin, and 
so am I, but I fancy we’d make first rate 
broilers." And then, more seriously, “ But, 
Gee! think of the fights that have gone on in 
this part of the world, and of how it all must 
have looked to those old fellows, like Drake, 
and Hawkins, and-" 

“ And Dampier, and Balboa," the tutor 
added with a smile. 

“ Yes, an'—an' Captain Kidd, an’ Mor¬ 
gan," Billy chimed in. 

“ Thought you didn’t like Geography, you 
young fraud," Don laughed, glancing up at 





i8 


EIGHT BELLS 


the rapt, earnest face of the small boy on 
his shoulder, and yet here you come in with 
the names of a couple of the toughest sort of 
old cut-throats.” 

“ Well,” Billy defended stoutly, “that ain’t 
Geography, it’s History, an’ they were bully 
scrappers, anyway. So was Flint, an’ that 
awful fellow, the one with the curly beard 
who used to chew up glass to make himself 
all bloody — what was his name, Mr. 
Archie? ” 

“ You mean Teach, I think,” Archie Spen- 
way answered. “ But where in the name of 
the Flying Dutchman have you picked up 
such a lot of blood-curdling things? What 
have you been reading, you young sinner ? ” 

“ I ain’t been readin’ nothin’,” Billy re¬ 
plied, “ but I borrowed a couple of books 
from Don for Pat to read out loud to me 
while Don was sick, an’ they were rippin’; 
they had heaps an’ lots of things in ’em.” 

“ I say, Don,” young Spenway smiled, 
though he was a little worried, too, “ what 
the dickens have you been lending this young 
innocent? ” 


THE SPANISH MAIN 


19 


Treasure Island/ ” Don laughed, “ for 
one thing, and 4 The Master of Ballantrae ’ 
for another. But I thought I was lending 
them to that scamp of a Bishop’s son, not to 
Billy. I might have known that British imp 
would have picked out all the hair-raising- 
parts for the youngster’s benefit. But it is 
dandy reading, sir.” 

“ Yes, I must admit it is, though not for 
a ten-year-old. Well, there’s the light from 
Cape Maisi, right off our starboard quarter, 
right at the end of Cuba, you know. See? ” 

“ Sure! Let’s go into the bow and watch 
it. Come ahead.” 

“ It can’t be done, old fellow; it’s almost 
midnight, and our small boy ought to have 
been in bed three hours ago, and so ought 
you and I. Shall I knock you up when we 
sight Haiti ? ” 

“ It’ll be mighty early, won’t it? ” a little 
doubtfully. 

“ It certainly will; about five I should say.” 

“Tough luck! But call me all the same, 
and I’ll not only be up myself, but I’ll have 
that bunkie of mine on hand, too, if I have to 
yank him out by the hair of his brown head 


20 


EIGHT BELLS 


—and Patsie has dandy hair for yanking, 
hasn’t he ? By-the-way, shall we drop Buster 
here overboard, so he can drift ashore, and 
be ‘ et up by the cannibals ’ ? How about it, 
young ’un? Huh? Hullo, if he isn’t fast 
asleep! I’ll just carry him to your cabin, 
shall I ? ” 

“ Never mind, Don, I’ll tote him. Hand 
him over. There’ll be breakers ahead all 
right, when I have to wake him to undress— 
but that’s one of the things tutors are made 
for! Good night, old man! ” 

“ Good night, sir! ” and the Middie dived 
down the broad stairway of the main saloon, 
just as the soft eight bells sounded over the 
quiet ship, their tones cutting out sweetly 
clear into the tropic night. 


CHAPTER III 


THE COASTS 

“ The swallow has set her six young on the rail, 

And looks seaward: 

The water s in stripes, like a snake, olive pale. 

To the leaward ,— 

On the weather side, black, spotted, white with the 
wind, 

‘ Good fortune departs, and disaster s behind; * 

Hark, the wind with its wants, and its infinite wail." 

( —Robert Browning.) 

“ Well,” Don said the next morning, as 
he stood with Archie Spenway, Billy, and 
Pat Dean, the Bishop's son, gazing off at the 
shores of Haiti, “ all I've got to say is that 
I'm mighty glad I don't have to live over 
there! ” 

“ It is sort of grim,” Pat agreed, “ and I 
bet the beggars that snoop around over those 
rocks are a rotten sort. How about it, 
Buster? ” 

“ Right-o, Pat! ” Billy assented, “ But I’d 
like to see some of 'em, shouldn't you? Bet 
they're an ugly lot! ” 


21 


22 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Sure they are/’ from Don. “ Can’t you 
just imagine a couple of boats putting off 
from that little point, and when they came 
alongside, to have a real, live bunch of bucca¬ 
neers pile on board, with cutlasses between 
their teeth—though I’ll be hanged if I’d like 
to tote one that way myself, might bite the 
wrong side, you know. And can’t you just 
hear some long moustached, dirty faced chap, 
with a red bandana around his head, and 
maybe a pair of those big, gold ear rings, 
swishing a knife around our ribs, and roar¬ 
ing out that song you were singing this morn¬ 
ing, Patsie? How does it go, now? ” 

Pat grinned: 

“ I don’t know the bally thing,” he said, 
“ not all of it; but it is no end jolly, ain’t it? 
It goes something like this, Mr. Archie: 

‘ Oh, our Captain was a devil, 

And our ship one bloody Hell— 
Heave, lads! heave her up, as all 
around the capstan go!— 

Sing a deep-sea chantey, 

As did Blackbeard and Cervante, 

Work on board the Hell in life— 
we’ll also work in Hell below! ’ ” 




THE COASTS 


23 


Archie Spenway sat down flat on the deck, 
tailor fashion, and began to laugh: 

“Where in the world did you dig up that 
mosaic, Pat ? ” he demanded. “ Also, what do 
you think his Grace, the Bishop, would say 
to such a song, eh ? ” 

Pat scratched his fluffy brown head and 
frowned: 

“ Well, you see, sir,” he said a little sulkily, 
“ I didn't make up the song.” 

“ Probably not, but where did you read 
it?” 

“ I didn't read it anywhere. I heard a 
sailor singing it. He's just about always 
singing it; I fancy it's the only song he 
knows. And I sort of took it into my head 
that I'd like to learn it, so I’ve listened to him 
when he's been swabbing down the decks 
just outside our cabin, while Don here's been 
asleep. He's a fierce looking specimen, the 
chap that sings it, and—oh, well! it's sort of 
interesting I think. You—you won't really 
tell on me to the Pater, will you, Mr. Archie? 
He'd give me billy-blue-hill if he knew, and 
maybe a licking too, if you go and blab to 
him.” 



24 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Why, of course he won't go and ‘ blab,' 
as you call it (a fellow needs a dictionary to 
know what you English kids are getting at 
half the time!), will you, Mr. Archie ? ” 

The tutor lit his pipe before he answered: 

“ Indeed I won’t tell,” he said. “ You 
know, Patsie, ‘ a fellow feeling makes us 
wond’rous kind,’ and it hasn’t been so aw¬ 
fully many years since I was just as keen as 
you and Don about pirates. Fact. But ad¬ 
ventures, real, man sized adventures, have 
gone out, entirely gone out.” 

“Like your pipe?” Billy struck in wist¬ 
fully. “ Oh, Mr. Archie, don’t you just wish 
they hadn’t? Don’t you, though? Don’t 
you ? ” 

The tutor put his arm around the small 
boy and drew his slim little body close, but 
he did not answer for some time. Instead, he 
puffed slowly at his pipe and looked long at 
the Haitian coast. 

Grim and foreboding in its bare, rocky 
sombreness, it stretched itself along the 
cerulean waters of the ocean like some pre¬ 
historic creature of ill omen. Although the 
steamer was running a couple of miles off 


THE COASTS 


25 


shore, the detonating boom of the surf could 
be heard as it broke itself, in soapy froth, 
against the huge projections of jagged rock. 
The thin fringe of cocoanut palms gave the 
effect of an ogress attempting to bedeck her¬ 
self in the green, lacey bravery of some poor 
little captive Princess from another world. 
Behind the coast line the great, heavily mas¬ 
sive mountains piled themselves up like 
thunder clouds. At last the tutor spoke: 

“ Billy,” he said, his pleasant, deep voice 
very gentle, “ promise me just one thing. 
When you have your day dreams, and all 
your cloudy air castles, come to me and tell 
me about them, won’t you? Please, old fel¬ 
low! Don’t dream any more by yourself. 
You’ll promise, won’t you? ” 

He spoke so soberly that Billy looked at 
him in wide eyed surprise: 

“ Why, rather! I’ll tell you everything, 
sir,” he answered solemnly. 

“ Bully for you! ” Spenway cried, forcing 
a briskness, that he did not entirely feel, into 
his voice. “ Well, boys, there goes that dish- 
pan gong for chow! Shall we go in? Hullo, 
it’s late, too! ” he added, glancing at his 


26 


EIGHT BELLS 


watch. “ It's quarter past eight. Lead the 
way, Commodore," to Billy, “ and we'll fol¬ 
low." And so they joined the stream of pas¬ 
sengers en route to the dining room. 

As the tutor and his small charge waited 
at the entrance for Mrs. vanZandt to join 
them, the serious, troubled look returned 
once more to the young fellow's eyes: 

“ I don't know why," he thought, “ but 
that coast line has got on my nerves, and a 
fellow of my size has no business to have 
nerves. But it has, for all that. And it’s on 
account of the youngster, somehow. God be 
good to you, you poor little rich chap! You're 
heaps too fine a small boy to get into any 
trouble. Yes, God be good to you, you poor, 
little rich chap! " 


CHAPTER IV 


THE BLACK CROSS 

“ In the afternoon they came unto a land, 

In which it seemed always afternoon. 

All round the coast the languid air did swoon. 
Breathing like one that hath a weary dream/' 

( —Alfred Tennyson.) 

After breakfast, or “ Chow,” as Archie 
called it, the passengers dispersed themselves 
about the ship in accordance with their var¬ 
ious tastes. The Governor General and 
Archie betook themselves to the smoking 
room, the Bishop curled himself up in his 
steamer chair with a copy of Theocritus, in 
the original, for company, while his young 
son, Pat, stayed inside to write a steamer let¬ 
ter to one of his chums, at Eton. Don, hav¬ 
ing seen the “ Commodore,” as Billy was 
now beginning to be called by everyone, 
leave the dining room with his mother, took 
it for granted that that youngster would re¬ 
main with her, and so he joined three young 
engineers and a doctor, all returning to the 

9 


28 


EIGHT BELLS 


Canal Zone from their six weeks’ holiday in 
the States, and became entirely engrossed in 
their accounts of the Isthmus. It was very 
hot, and the thick, rapidly gathering clouds 
gave every indication of a fast approaching 
down pour; something to be expected daily, 
so the doctor explained to Don, for the rainy 
season had set in about a month ago. 

Since before breakfast, or to be more ex¬ 
act, ever since the “ Colon ” had passed Cuba 
the night before, the Long Atlantic swells 
had given place to a choppy sea, which now 
began to match the on-coming rain clouds in 
grayness. The ship was moving ahead with 
less motion, and people who had not shown 
their faces since passing Sandy Hook, be¬ 
gan to put in an appearance on deck, notably 
a stout gentleman, with a black beard, who 
wore his steamer cap with much fierceness 
on the back of his head, and who, just before 
leaving New York, had regaled a few choice 
spirits in the smoking room concerning a 
fearful hurricane that he had once encoun¬ 
tered “ just before we lifted the Azores,” and 
which, from the gentleman’s account, 
must have been the whale of a storm, for he 


THE BLACK CROSS 


29 


informed his listeners that all hands on board 
were ill, even the seamen, with the exception 
of the Captain and himself. 

“ This would be just dandy,” said Don, “ if 
it wasn't so blamed hot. Does it ever get any 
smoother than this before we reach Colon, 
Doctor?” 

“ Yes indeed!” the M. D. answered. “ You 
just wait until about three o'clock this after¬ 
noon, when we get in all among the Baha¬ 
mas, Fortune Island, and the rest of them, 
and you'll think you're on a duck pond and, 
if the sun comes out so you can see their 
wonderful, smooth stretches of ivory white 
sand, and the soft, green daintiness of their 
palm fronds, with the deep masses of the 
trade clouds backing up toward the Carib¬ 
bean, all pinky-white and smoke colored, ex¬ 
cept where they are torn with great shafts 
of gold, you'll think you're in Paradise.” 

While all the above was taking place, JBilly, 
having talked to his mother for a half hour 
or so, was requested by that lady to “ run 
along and find Mr. Archie.” He did look 
into the smoking room, but finding his tutor 
deep in a game of chess with the Governor 


30 


EIGHT BELLS 


General, who was quivering with indigna¬ 
tion at the result of a most ponderously 
thought out play, whereby he had just dis¬ 
covered that he had exposed his Queen, he 
slipped off unnoticed, and went as far for¬ 
ward as the promenade deck of the steamer 
extended, where he stood for a while, looking 
down on the main deck below him, with its 
coils of rope hawsers, and its partly opened 
hatches, opened so that the men before the 
mast could get some air, in the fo’castle. 
The wind blew a friendly greeting to him 
from the shallow, green expanse of the ap¬ 
proaching Caribbean, and now and then, as 
some saucy, little wave would give the bow 
of the big liner a slap on her port quarter, 
and would send a shower of salty spray over 
the deck, the little Commodore would wrin¬ 
kle his snubbed nose and sniff, delighted. 
His usually pale face was now a delicate 
shell pink, and whenever a few truant drops 
of sea water struck him, he would fairly 
squeal with happiness. 

Suddenly his small-boy thoughts were in¬ 
terrupted by a voice, rather harsh, though 
not at all unpleasant, singing. The owner 


THE BLACK CROSS 


3 i 


was evidently one of the crew, for he walked 
over to the main hatch and opened it wider, 
after which he continued his song: 

“ Oh, our Captain was a devil, 

And our ship one bloody Hell— 

(Heave lads! heave her up, as all 
around the capstan go!) 

Sing a deep-sea chantey, 

As did Blackbeard, and Cervante ”— 
Here he paused to light his corncob pipe, 
sheltering the tiny flame of the match be¬ 
hind a practiced hand. After a few puffs 
he continued, after a glance at the sky, which 
was so comprehensive as to include the 
youngster above him as well as everything 
else: 

“ Work aboard the Hell in life—We’ll also 
work in Hell below!” 

With a little chuckle of delight Billy 
climbed down the narrow, perpendicular lad¬ 
der that was used as a short cut by the sailors 
when they went from the main deck to man 
the wheel in the deckhouse, and with the 
spryness of a small marmosette, he dropped 
close to the old sailor’s side, apparently much 
to the latter’s surprise. 


32 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Your servant, sir!” he said, touching his 
cap with an old-fashioned salute, not often 
seen now-a-days. 

“ I say, Mr. Sailor-man!” Billy blurted out 
eagerly. “ Won’t you sing me that song 
again, please ? I—I just love it.” 

“ Why, and what song should you mean, 
now?” the old fellow asked thoughtfully. 
“ Surely not the one I was just a’singing ? 
That aint no song for a little boy! And even 
if I was the sort o’ chap to sing such a thing 
to a young gentleman like you, which I aint, 
you’d laugh at me when you got bigger. 
You’d be tellin’ your little boy some day how 
an old fool of a tar sang to you, an’ you 
that’ll be ownin’ ships of your own some 
time.” 

“You can just bet I’ll own ships!” Billy 
agreed. “ Lots of ’em! When I’m twenty- 
one, an’ Grandad vanZandt gives me a heap 
of money, I’ll buy hundreds of thousands of 
millions of ships—an’ I’ll make you captain 
on one of ’em, Mr. Sailor-man, ’cause I like 
you, ever so.” 

“Much obliged, sir!” the sailor smiled, 
again touching his cap. “ I’d be proud to 


THE BLACK CROSS 


33 


work under your house flag, Master- 

Master-? ” 

“ Billy,” the boy struck in. 

“ Thank you, Master Billy. And in the 
meantime, while you’re growin’ up a bit, as 
we may say, would you like old Alf, that’s 
me, to spin you a yarn? ” 

“ O-Oh, will you ? That’ll be rippin’ ! But 
it’s beginnin’ to rain, so where’ll we go, Alf?” 

“ Just you leave that to me, sir. Come 
along into the lea of the dining room, under 
the starboard awning, and we’ll be as dry as 
powder.” 

Once seated in the shelter of the super¬ 
structure, the old man began to tell tales of 
the sea, with their scenes reaching all the 
way from the Bay of Fundy to Rio Grande 
do Sul, and from Juneau to Bombay. The 
little Commodore, his lips parted over his 
small, white teeth, his eyes wide with excite¬ 
ment, listened, the admiration on his face 
ever on the increase. The strong, muscular 
arm of the sailor, thrown about his slender 
body, sent a strange thrill through him; it 
made him feel so weak and boyish, and yet 
he liked it, too. Finally, after a hair-raising 



34 


EIGHT BELLS 


account of a hand to hand fight with a polar 
bear, somewhere off Terre del Fuego, the 
old man stopped and, glancing down at the 
boy’s slight, brown hand, said: 

“ But you’ll be doin’ that yourself some 
day, Master Billy, when your muscles get 
bigger. Not but what you’re solid enough 
for your age, I don’t doubt. How about the 
right arm, now ? Pretty firm ?” 

“ I dunno,” Billy answered, blushing. 
“ Feel it, an’ tell me how it is.” 

The sailor felt the white duck sleeve, and 
then shook his grey head: 

“ Can’t tell much about it that way,” he 
said. “ You’ll have to roll up your sleeve as 
high as you can—or, I’ll tell you what, slip 
your arm out from the top of your Middie- 
blouse, it’ll only take a second, and I do love 
to see a good, sturdy arm!” 

Billy slipped his right arm out of the 
blouse, and held it toward the man. The 
naked shoulder, and the round, white upper 
arm, were in deep contrast to the tan on the 
forearm, but the whole was boyishly slight. 

With a sudden, quick movement, the sailor 
pushed the arm above his head and, as the 


THE BLACK CROSS 


35 


boy began to struggle, he cut lightly two 
thin, deep marks, in the shape of a cross, 
under the armpit, but instead of a spurt of 
blood, the satiny skin remained dry, with 
only a purplish line following the lips of the 
wound. 


CHAPTER V 
THE RIGHT SORT 


“ It maybe that fate will give me life and leave to row 
once more — 

Set some strong man free for fightmgj as I take awhile 
his oar. 

But today 1 leave the galley. Shall I curse her service 
then? 

God be thanked—whatever comes after, I have lived 
and toiled with men ” 

( —Rudyard Kipling.) 

Late on the afternoon of the sixth day 
from the time that she had left New York, 
the “ Colon ” dropped anchor off Cristobal, 
with the light house on Toro Point winking 
a greeting to her in the rapidly gathering 
darkness, for there is almost no twilight in 
the tropics. 

Don and the Bishop’s son stayed out on 
deck all night on account of the severe, sticky 
heat, for though there was a good breeze 
blowing from the Caribbean, the ship, hold¬ 
ing by only one anchor, would swing, bow 
on, to it, so that the staterooms received but 
small benefit from it. 


36 


THE RIGHT SORT 


3 7 

By six o’clock the next morning everybody 
on board was up, and by seven the khaki clad 
quarantine officer had boarded the ship and 
she had cautiously nosed her way into her 
berth, and her passengers streamed down 
onto the dock and, having once been received 
under its sloping roof of corrugated iron, 
where the heat was simply indescribable, 
they wished most devoutly that they were on 
board again. After an hour or so of delay, 
the special train that was to carry them to 
Panama city pulled out on its slow, hot, 
but wonderfully interesting transcontinental 
run. 

Much to poor Pat’s disgust, the Bishop 
insisted on keeping him close to the Episco¬ 
pal side in the “ La France ” (the private 
car that was coupled on to the rear of the 
train for the use of the Governor-General). 
It is needless to say that both Billy and his 
mother were also on board as guests of the 
General, as was also Archie Spenway. As 
for Don, it is true he missed his friends, but 
for all that, he enjoyed the short railroad 
journey a great deal; for the young doctor, 
and two of the three engineers with whom he 


38 


EIGHT BELLS 


had talked so much on the run from New 
York, stuck to him to a man, and the more 
questions he asked them, the better they 
seemed to like it, so they all got along 
famously. 

Past Mindi, Gatun, and Gorgona; past 
Tabernilla, Bas Obispo, and Las Cascadas, 
sped the train, ever climbing higher and 
higher from the low, swampy stretches of 
the Chagres River to the soft deepness of the 
mountain ranges that form the connecting 
link between the Mexican Rockies and the 
Andes. As they slowed down for the station 
at Empire, the doctor turned to Don: 

“ This will interest you, Stockbridge,” he 
said, “ because the Marines have their camp 
here, up on that hill. See? When we get to 
Culebra, that’s the next stop, you know, 
we’ll go out on the platform with Brown and 
Drake,” indicating the two engineers, “ and 
we’ll stay out till we get to Paraiso. You get 
a first rate view up the cut, just after you 
pass our new reservoir, about half way be¬ 
tween the two places.” 

“ I’ll feel sort of lost when you two fel¬ 
lows drop us at Culebra,” Don said, as he 


THE RIGHT SORT 


39 

shook hands with the engineers. “ You've 
been just dandy to me, you know." 

“ Well," young Brown spoke up heartily, 
“ we’ll miss you, too, Don—but the doctor 
will talk sanitation with you until you’ll for¬ 
get us. He knew we’d chuck him out of the 
window if he tried it on us. It’s his hobby, 
you know. Well, I hope the Lord will tem¬ 
per the wind to the shorn lamb. How about 
it, doctor? ’’ 

“ Well, I’ve always known that the engi¬ 
neering department had, with the possible 
exception of the Quartermaster’s crown, the 
biggest lot of cheek to be seen on the Isth¬ 
mus,’’ the doctor grinned, “ but I’ll be hanged 
if you two don’t bear the palm ! Haven’t I 
sat like a Buddha reincarnated and listened 
to the pair of you tell this husky infant all 
about the merits of Lock canals, the punk¬ 
ness of Sea-level canals, and all that rot? 
Get off here, and lose yourselves in the 
jungle, and let me continue my journey to 
Ancon in peace.’’ 

“ Go to it, Doctor! ’’ Brown laughed in 
high glee. “ Only don’t color your sanitary 
expose too highly, old son. ‘ Maxima reve- 


40 


EIGHT BELLS 


rentia debitur pueris,’ you know. Keep up 
your oration, it’ll keep the deadly Stegomyia” 
(N. B. now Aedes iEgyptus) “ or whatever 
you M. D.’s call the poor, little yellow fever 
mosquito, away from Mr. Midshipman Easy 
here. So long, boy! Come out and see us be¬ 
fore you sail. We’re always glad to have the 
right sort out here; we like ’em.” 

“ So long! ” Don called, and he and the 
doctor stood on the steps of the coach, lean¬ 
ing far out at the imminent risk of falling 
off, as they waved their steamer caps after 
their two friends until the curve in the track 
around Culebra mountain hid them. 

“ Might as well stay out here, hadn’t we, 
sir?” Don asked, as he and the doctor 
climbed back to the platform. “ You said 
something about seeing the cut in a little 
while. It’s an awful nuisance that that old 
private car’s on behind. If it wasn’t, this 
would be the rear coach and we could see 
dandy.” 

“ It is aggravating,” the doctor assented. 
“ The General would be glad for us to go 
back in his car, but I just tell you, Donny, 
your Uncle Dudley won’t ask. No, sir! I 


THE RIGHT SORT 


4i 


can’t swallow that millionaire woman! The 
kid seems to be a nice, spry, wide awake little 
chap, a first rate specimen of Young 
America, but good Lord! The Mother! 
Whew! Here’s the reservoir. Isn’t it a 
daisy? Those two boys we dropped at 
Culebra helped to build that. And here’s the 
cut. Take a good look.” 

As the Midshipman complied, it seemed 
to him as if the soft, green sides of the huge 
mountain had been torn apart, leaving a 
vast, sloping gash, the sides of which 
dropped in terraces to the myriad of tracks 
at the bottom. And what colors, what tints 
did not the dirt, sand and rock sides possess! 
Terra cotta, Indian brown, shading to a 
burnt Sienna, contrasted with all shades of 
grey, from slate color to the softest shade of 
pearl, which, in its turn, blended into the 
yellow ochre of the clay bottom. Through it 
all crawled innumerable dirt trains, some 
filled with the debris torn up by the big steam 
shovels, some hurrying back to be reloaded. 
Higher up, on the jungle covered terraces 
that were not in use, stood thousands of 
rusty, weather worn pieces of machinery, 


42 


EIGHT BELLS 


left by the old French canal company; grim 
reminders of a brave fight, and a tragic 
failure. 

To Don, boy-like, the only appeal was 
from the actual work going forward: 

“ Gee! ” he exclaimed, his smooth face 
flushing. “ Don’t it make a fellow proud of 
being an American citizen? ” 

“ Yes,” the doctor agreed, with a smile at 
the lad’s earnest face, “ it does. And,” he 
added, his own face settling into a serious 
expression, “ we’re all working together for 
this, you see. All of the men higher up, all 
the Departments, all the Divisions, all of us 
—and it’s that, that’ll carry it through.” 

“ You just bet it will! ” Don cried enthusi¬ 
astically, as they re-entered the coach. 

For a few minutes they sat in silence, and 
then the boy began to frown. 

“ What’s wrong, Donny?” his friend 
asked. 

“ I’m just pulling myself down to the pres¬ 
ent from the past and the future, sir,” the 
boy explained. “ I’ve got to ask you some¬ 
thing, and I’ll have to be pretty plain about 
it. Isn’t there any hotel in Panama that don’t 


THE RIGHT SORT 


43 


cost so awful much ? The only one you fel¬ 
lows talked about was the ‘ Hotel Central/ 
and the prices there, from what you said, 
were just tough. Where else could a fellow 
go?” 

“ Well, I don't know that you need bother 
your yellow head about hotels/' the doctor 
said, with a smile, “ because Pm going to 
take you to my quarters, at Ancon. I’ll kid¬ 
nap you, if necessary." 

“Oh, but I say! Pd be awfully in your 
way! and-” 

“ Nothing of the kind! Why, you young 
heathen! I want you to come. Does that suit 
you? Remember what Brown said to you at 
Culebra? Well, you'll find it the case all over 
the Canal Zone; everybody wouldn’t, but you 
will. We’re always glad to have the right 
sort here. We like ’em! ’’ 



CHAPTER VI. 


THE LADY OF THE PRESIDENCIA 

" When I first put this uniform on, 

1 said, as I looked in the glass: 

‘ It's one to a million, 

If any civilian 

My figure and form can surpass! 

( —Sir Charles Gilbert.) 

“ Hurry up, Narcissus! ” the doctor called 
jovially, as he walked across the wire netting 
enclosure of the veranda from the bathroom 
to his bedroom, and stood smiling at Don, 
who was looking at himself in the long, old- 
fashioned French mirror. 

The boy had dressed himself in all the trig 
nattiness of a United States Naval cadet's 
white uniform: 

“ Too much dog, sir? ” he asked with an 
embarrassed grin, as he looked down at his 
white Oxfords, and white silk socks—quite 
the first pair he had ever owned, be it added. 

“ Not a bit of it, not a bit of it! ” the doctor 
answered, showing in his face the pleasure 
he felt in the youngster's sturdy, erect figure, 


44 


THE LADY OF THE PRESIDENTIA 45 

and clear skinned, good-humored face. 

“ Quite a Bayeux tapestry, with a story of 
efficient deeds to come. ,, 

“ I didn’t know I’d taken so long to get 
into these glad rags of mine,” Don said 
apologetically, “ but I got to feeling so chesty 
when you told me about our going to the 
President’s palace—what’s the right word 
for it?” 

“ Presidencia, I fancy you mean.” 

“ That’s it—to the Presidencia, that I 
wanted to look as fit as I could. Say, doctor, 
how on earth did you manage to get ’em to 
let you bring me? ” 

The doctor laughed. 

“ Why, that was easy. It’s Friday, and the 
President and his wife always receive on 
Friday evening. Well, while you were down 
at the Ville de Paris squandering your pesos 
on those white shoes, I drove to the Presi¬ 
dencia and met Madam Amador and the 
President just going out for a drive in the 
Sabanas, and when I told her that I had an 
American Naval cadet staying with me, she 
told me to be sure to bring you down to- 


46 


EIGHT BELLS 


night. How did you get along with your 
purchases? 

“ Why, I only got the shoes and then went 
up the street to the American Bazaar and got 
these socks. Gee, but they cost a lot! If it 
hadn’t sort of been for the honor of the 
Service, I wouldn’t have bought ’em. Is 
everything so expensive down here ? ” 

“ No, but that kind of stuff is. Now I’m 
ready for dinner, if you are, and you ought 
to be, for we both missed breakfast. That 
blamed train got in an hour late, and it was 
two o’clock before we got up here, and I 
know Frago, he’s the chief Mess steward, 
too well not to know he wouldn’t save any¬ 
thing after one, and breakfast is supposed 
to be anywhere from eleven-thirty to twelve- 
thirty, you know.” 

“ Well, I’m hungry, all right,” Don ad¬ 
mitted, “ and I’m as keen for chow as you 
are. Also, I’m quite ready.” And, putting 
on his white and gold cap, he followed the 
doctor out of the bungalow, and together 
they climbed the white macadam road that 
curved through the grounds of Ancon hos¬ 
pital, on its way up the mountain, and, hav- 


THE LADY OF THE PRESIDENTIA 47 

ing reached the long, two storied building, 
with the line of royal palms in front, the two 
walked up the steps on to the wide, carefully 
screened veranda, and stood for a moment 
looking at the smooth waters of the Pacific, 
with the point, on which stood all that was 
left of the old city of Panama, destroyed by 
Morgan in 1671, on their left, some miles in 
the offing; while to their right Ancon moun¬ 
tain rose sheer, for about seven hundred feet. 
Then they went in to dinner. 

The doctor was not to be reassigned to 
duty until the next day, so after dinner he 
took his young guest back to his quarters, 
and while he and the two other physicians 
who shared his bungalow with him, smoked 
and exchanged Isthmian news with that 
from “ God’s country,” the Midshipman 
listened to them in silence until it was time 
for them to start for the Presidencia. 

“ It is a queer thing to me,” the doctor 
remarked as the two walked down the hill, 
and out of the hospital gate, “ that if you 
don’t happen to want one of these blamed 
little one-horse caruajes you’ll always find 
half a dozen of them down at the gate, but 


48 EIGHT BELLS 

I’ll bet we’ll have to walk to the Avenida Cen¬ 
tral before we get one.” 

True to his prophecy, they had to walk 
the entire length of the Avenida del Quartro 
de Julio, and down the Avenida Central until 
they reached the Plaza del Santa Anna. 

“ I’ll be hanged if I ever saw such side¬ 
walks,” said Don, as he and his friend 
climbed up the steps that joined one part of 
the smooth surfaced pavements to another. 

The doctor’s only reply to him was to hold 
up two fingers, and whistle shrilly, and then 
to begin to bawl: 

“Venga aca!” he shouted, and a small, 
two seated coach, pulled by a diminutive 
Peruvian horse, drew up, and they got into 
it and rattled off to the Presidencia. 

“ I say, doctor,” Don begged, “ just h-hold 
up a s-second, w-won’t you please? ” 

“ Why, what the deuce is the matter? ” the 
M. D. asked, stopping half way across the 
flower filled patio of the palace, with its big 
fountain in the center, and the cool, shell 
pink tiles with which it was paved. 

“ Pm—I’m scared! ” the Midshipman 
gulped miserably. 


THE LADY OF THE PRESIDENTIA 49 

The doctor’s hearty laugh rang through 
the stillness, and he placed one hand on the 
lad’s white duck shoulder: 

“ Don't get frightened already,” he said. 
“ This is nothing to what’s coming.” And 
he pushed the cadet up the broad stairway, 
and around the balcony to the entrance of 
the salon, and a moment later they were 
making their way through the length of a 
high pitched, yellow hung room, near one 
end of which stood a small group of people, 
and then Don found himself standing in 
front of a handsome, bejeweled woman, with 
a sweet graciousness of face and manner 
that somehow made a lump rise in his throat, 
a queer feeling of loyalty, such as Queen 
Elizabeth’s sailor-boys are said to have felt 
in her presence. As the doctor presented 
him, he clicked his heels together prepara¬ 
tory to giving the traditional military bow, 
but, as he he looked into this lady’s high bred, 
gentle face, he very quietly lifted to his lips 
the hand she held out to him. 

The scene was a gay one, and yet had a 
touch of democracy about it that was good 
to see. The President’s wife kept the Mid- 


50 


EIGHT BELLS 


shipman by her for almost the whole of the 
half hour that he and the doctor stayed, and 
he lost all his shyness as he listened to her 
talk. She was frankly pleased by this big, 
rather clumsy boy’s open adoration, and 
called him “ mia propiedad ” (my prop¬ 
erty). Luckily he knew Spanish quite well, 
for the Senora spoke almost no English. 

Seated on a sofa by one of the long French 
windows that, standing open, let in a soft 
breath of night air from the Pacific, he told 
her of his love for the sea, and of his trip 
to the Isthmus from New York. Although 
she had taken the trip time without number, 
she listened with the unaffected interest that 
she felt, throwing in an occasional “ Aie! ” 
accompanied with a lift of her white shoul¬ 
ders. The old President smiled over at the 
two and, turning to Mrs. vanZandt, who was 
standing by him with the wife of the British 
Minister, said, in English: 

“ Maria has now adopted another son! 
See, the big boy in the white uniform? But 
I beg your pardon, you have not yourself yet 
met my wife,” and he led the way to 
Madam’s side, and introduced the American 



HE TOLD HER OF HIS LOVE FOR THE SEA 















THE LADY OF THE PRESIDENTIA 51 

woman. Madam Amador’s eyes twinkled 
with mischief, for Don had told her of how 
completely Mrs. vanZandt had held herself 
aloof on board the “ Colon,” and she now 
noted with quiet amusement the effusive 
greeting the boy received. 

“ Maria,” said the President, “ Mrs. van- 
Zandt’s little son and his tutor are going to 
Taboga tomorrow.” 

“ Aie! ” Madam exclaimed. “ Then tell 
her to be sure that they eat largely of the 
Taboga pineapples. They are heavenly! But 
does not the Senora go also ? ” 

“ No, Madam,” Mrs. vanZandt answered, 
in French, a language that Madam Amador 
spoke as well as her own, “ I cannot ‘ rough 
it,’ as my little boy expresses it, so I must 
remain in Panama, at the Legation. He and 
his tutor, and the son of the Lord Bishop of 
the Bahamas are going, and,” smiling 
graciously at Don, “ I am hoping that this 
young man will go, too. My boy thinks so 
much of him.” 

“ Que dice, mia propiedad ? ” asked the 
President’s wife. 


52 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Ed just love to, if it would be all right,” 
the Middie answered, a slight grin on his 
mouth as he caught the merry laugh in 
Madame’s dark eyes. 

“ Good! ” said Mrs. vanZandt. “ The boys 
leave the Hotel Marina at nine o’clock.” 

A little later, as Don and the doctor 
walked toward the Plaza del Cathedral, in 
quest of a cab, the M. D. began to talk of 
his trips to Europe, and ended by telling of 
his never having seen so much as one 
“ crowned head.” 

“ Well, I have,” said Don solemnly. 

"Where?” asked the doctor. "Thought 
you told me you’d never been to Europe.” 

“ I haven’t,” the Midshipman answered, 
“ but I’ve met Royalty all the same. I’ve met 
the Lady of the Presidencia.” 


CHAPTER VII 


“ THE MERRY MEN ” 

“ A wet sheet, and a flowing sea, 

A wind that follows fast. 

And fills the white and rustling sail, 

And bends the gallant mast. 

And bends the gallant mast, my boys. 

While like the eagle free. 

Away the good ship flies, and leaves 
Old England on the lea .” 

Oh, for a soft and gentle wind! * 

I heard a fair one cry; 

But give to me the swelling breeze. 

And white waves heaving high. 

The white waves heaving high, my lads. 

The good ship tight and free — 

The world of waters is our home, 

And merry men are we.” 

( —Alen Cunningham.) 

A stiff wind was blowing, and the small 
sloop, skimming over the waters of the Bay 
of Panama, made good headway under one 
jib, a mainsail, and her topsail. In length she 
was not much larger than a good sized cat- 
boat, but her lines, as befitted her sloop rig, 
were slighter and more rakish. She was a 

53 


54 


EIGHT BELLS 


well made little craft and had been built on 
the Clyde and brought over for the use of 
the British Minister but, after a few months, 
that diplomat had purchased a motorboat 
and so he had gladly sold the “ Sapalo ” to 
Mrs. vanZandt, who had given it to Billy for 
a birthday present. The “ Sapalo ” had, be¬ 
side the little Commodore and his three 
friends, two deck hands on board, an Ameri¬ 
can who had shipped the day before and who 
had just finished his time on a four masted 
schooner that was now lying off La Boca 
with a load of coal from Australia, and a boy 
of about Pat’s age. He was part Spaniard 
and part Indian, and had worked on the 
“ Sapalo ” ever since her arrival from 
England. His name was Bias. Neither of 
these two were really needed, because what 
Archie Spenway and Don didn’t know about 
a sail boat wasn’t worth the knowing, and 
Pat was almost as proficient in nautical lore. 
All of them swam like ducks, and in this Billy 
could hold his own with his elders, though of 
course he did not have their endurance. Still 
the deckhands could do the dirty work, and 
Bias’ familiarity with the coast was valuable 


“THE MERRY MEN ” 


55 


to them, so on the whole, things on board 
were arranged to everyone's liking. 

Although one does not need any vast 
knowledge of navigation to make the short 
runs that the owners of the “ Sapalo ” 
planned to take, Don, being more versed in 
the art than the others, was made captain, 
and the rest took turn and turn about at the 
tiny wheel, or left it to the Seaman, Smith, 
or to Bias. 

After they had cleared the harbor proper, 
and had left Flamenco, Perico and Naos, the 
three small mountain islands that shut it in, 
behind them, they found the open waters of 
the Pacific stretched out before them a clear 
expanse, except where the eleven hundred 
feet of Taboga lifted itself in a soft, humid 
haze in the distance, and a couple of miles 
from it a lesser island, Tabogilla, lay like a 
small son watching his big father, whom he 
greatly resembles. Although the sun was 
shining brightly, the seas were running high, 
and now and then the “ Sapalo ” would dip 
her bowsprit under the water and, as she 
righted herself, the spray would be sent 
flying over the deck. Don was at the wheel, 


56 


EIGHT BELLS 


and his three friends were loafing on the 
small expanse of after deck, talking lazily. 
The Midshipman was, of course, standing, 
and Billy had adroitly curled himself in the 
older boy’s shadow. The two hands were 
forward. 

“ I wish,” Billy spoke a little resentfully, 
as he gazed from his short khaki knickers to 
the long, white duck sailor trousers of his 
three elders, “ I wish I could wear long 
pants. When can I, Mr. Archie? ” 

“ Billy, wait till you grow stronger, 

And your little legs are longer; 

Then you may wear long pants.” 

Archie laughed back at him teasingly; 
then he added to Don: “ I say, Captain, who 
says I’m not a poet? ” 

“Yah!” Don grinned. “Tennyson al¬ 
tered to suit! You’re some poet, all right, 
Mr. Archie! Say, Commodore,” to Billy, 
“ bet you don’t know why our pants are so 
big around the bottoms.” 

“ Sure I know why,” Billy answered. “ It’s 
so you can git ’em rolled above your knees.” 


“ THE MERRY MEN ” 


5 7 


44 Right-o!" from Archie. “But Com¬ 
modore, Commodore, how often must I tell 
you not to say 4 git’ ? ” 

“ Yes, sir! Sorry! ” 

“ Oh, well, whether we 4 git ' them up, or 
get them up above our knees, your answer's 
right, as Mr. Archie says," Don struck in. 
44 But here's another stumper for you, young 
'un: Why do we have 'em laced up the back? 
How about it, Buster ? ” 

44 1 dunno; not unless you think it looks 
nice, an’ I don’t think it does." 

44 Why, we do it so, if we fall overboard, 
we can grab hold of this knot and with one 
pull undo the lacers, and then off come our 
pants." 

44 Aw, hire a hall, Don! " Pat drawled, as 
he lay on his back, with his small, soft, white 
Jackie's cap tilted over his brown eyes. 44 And 
so, having expounded this most interesting 
theory, dear students, I will call your atten¬ 
tion to our gauze undershirts. You observe 
they are without sleeves. That is to show off 
the beauty of our manly arms and shoulders. 
The fact that the old sun burns the deuce 
out of us, is another reason for leaving our- 


53 


EIGHT BELLS 


selves half undressed—but you must get Mr. 
Archie to tell you why, Billy-Billy, 'cause I 
can't." 

“ We'll make you walk the plank if you 
don't quit kiddin' us, you curly-headed land¬ 
lubber! " Don laughed. 

“ Yes, an’ then Taboga Bill'll git—get, I 
mean—you," Billy added, smiling as he 
shook his finger at the Bishop's son. 

“Who’s he, Commodore?" Archie in¬ 
quired. “ Another buccaneer? " 

The small boy wrinkled his freckled nose 
gleefully. 

“ No, siree! He's worse than a buccaneer, 
ever so much worse! He’s a great, big, man- 
eatin' shark, and oh, Mr. Archie, he's just 
one bully old shark! He can chew up a boy 
in one snap, an' he could eat up a big fellow 
like you, or Mr. Midshipman Easy here, in 
'bout three. He's rippin'! An' when he 
bites a kid his teeth go ‘Gee-runch-up!’ ” 

“Must be a fish of sorts!" Pat struck 
in, with a slow grin. 

“Here’s a how-d’ ye-do!" Archie smiled 
ruefully. “ What's a tutor to do when he has 
to look after a boy with an inquiring mind 


“THE MERRY MEN ” 


59 


like yours? What between the Captain— 
that’s Don, you know—and the First Officer 
—that’s Pat—telling you about buccaneers, 
and people chewing glass, and about man- 
eating sharks, I-” 

“ But they didn’t tell me ’bout Taboga 
Bill,” the youngster interrupted. “ Bias told 

—_ ^ yy 

me. 

“ Well, if this whole bunch don’t stop 
telling you things, there’ll be a great, big, 
beautiful mutiny on board, headed by me.” 

“ And who are you,” Don laughed, as he 
threw the wheel over a point to starboard, 
“ to talk of mutiny against the Commodore, 
and the Captain, and the First Officer?” 

“ I’m Ship’s Cook, and not a man of you 
gets a bite out of the galley unless you quit 
stuffing my Commodore with bloody cut¬ 
lasses, doubloons and pieces of eight.” 

“Bias,” Don called suddenly, “ take this 
wheel. We’re almost off the island.” And 
as the boy came aft he added: “ Where’ll we 
anchor?” 

“ The best place, sir,” Bias answered in 
very good English, “ is right off the little 
island you see joined to Taboga by that 



6o 


EIGHT BELLS 


stretch of sand. There, to starboard, sir. 
That is Moro Island, and at high tide it is 
divided from Taboga by the water.” 

“ Good boy! We’ll come about in the lea 
of it. Stand by to cast anchor—that means 
you, Patsie.” 

The Bishop’s son grunted and obeyed, in 
came the jib, the anchor splashed overboard, 
and a moment later down rattled the main¬ 
sail. 


CHAPTER VIII 


AGAIN THE BLACK CROSS. 

" For there isn't a job on the top of the earth the 
beggar don't know nor do. 

You can leave him at night on a bald man's 'ead, to 
paddle 'is own canoe; 

'E's a sort of a bloomin' cosmopolouse—soldier an 
sailor too." 

( —Rudyard Kipling.) 

Taboga! Surely it is one of the fairest 
gems in this diadem of equatorial sunshine; 
and what if her charm is rather that of some 
well cut bit of Asiatic jade, than the more 
dazzling pricelessness of an emerald—is it 
not the rarity of the latter, more than its 
superior beauty that attracts? There are 
many islands clustered in this part of the 
Pacific Ocean, close to the “ line,” that are 
like Taboga ; Tabogilla, Uriva, Bona, Otoki 
—and many others, but it is none the less 
attractive for .all that. Rocks, covered with 
soft masses of greenish brown sea-weed, 
are visible for about thirty yards at low 
water, but are hidden under the green seas 


61 


62 


EIGHT BELLS 


of the little bay when the wonderful eighteen 
to twenty foot tide rolls in, one of the great¬ 
est tides in the world. Back of the rocks lies 
a stretch of pale brown pebbles, and, sloping 
up gently from this is the cream white of the 
sand, at the border of which the village be¬ 
gins to raise itself in a series of terraces, 
with its stucco houses of many colors; tur¬ 
quoise, aqua marine, cobalt, chocolate, green- 
bice, grey, salmon and rose pink and gam¬ 
boge—nothing glaring because of the soften¬ 
ing touch of the master artist, Time, whose 
brush has subdued it all, even to the adding 
of velvety bits of green moss on the terra 
cotta of the roof tiles. There are no side¬ 
walks, and the rough cobble stones in the 
narrow, winding streets have grass peeping 
between them. On the highest terrace are 
a line of queer, square adobe huts with 
peaked, thatched roofs, and behind this are 
rows of banana and pineapple plants and a 
double line of cocoanut palms, from the roots 
of which the mountain rises abruptly, the 
density of its conglomerate foliage stopping 
about a hundred feet from the top, to be re¬ 
placed by masses of sharp, jagged granite, 


AGAIN THE BLACK CROSS 


63 


and, above all, across the still waters of 
Ancon cove, with its smooth, firm beach of 
pure white sand, stands a black cross, grim, 
sinister and horrible; no cross at the foot of 
which to rest one’s sorrows, but a crucifix, a 
cross of pain, placed, so the story has it, by 
an old priest to mark the resting place of a 
few unhappy boys who escaped from the 
burning of old Panama, only to be followed 
to Taboga by some of Morgan’s buccaneers, 
there to be murdered brutally. An evil, 
crooked, mishapen, black thing, this cross, 
be it in the memory of boys, or men, or 
women. 

As the late afternoon sun dropped behind 
the mountain the three young fellows and the 
small boy who constituted the “ wardroom 
mess,” as Don called it in true naval style, 
looked up from the deck of the “ Sapalo ” at 
the cool shadows that now lay over the vil¬ 
lage, and the stillness that had somehow held 
them all during the hot afternoon was broken 
by Archie, who, knocking out the ashes from 
the bowl of his pipe against the side of the 
sloop, said, in a matter of fact voice: 


64 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Captain, kindly reduce my Commodore 
to the ranks and make him cabin boy long 
enough to lend a hand with the preparations 
for chow.” 

“ Oh, but I say, Captain,” Billy cried, 
grinning lazily, “ if you do that, I’ll have you 
up for court martial for insubordination.” 

“ My, my! ” Don answered sleepily. 
“ What a great, big word for such a small 
boy! I think we’d better name this craft 
the ‘ Cozy Chicken Coop,’ like the boat I was 
singing about after breakfast this morning. 
Buster, you won’t mind helping Mr. Archie 
get supper, will you? If we’d left the Marina 
at nine o’clock, like we planned, ’stead of one, 
we’d of had more time to loaf before starting 
to work.” 

“ Course I won’t mind helping, only I wish 
you’d give a fellow orders, ’stead of askin’ 
him. It’s heaps more fun, honest it is.” 

“ All right! ” Don agreed, jumping to his 
legs, and then, in a voice that rang out over 
the stillness of the waters and sent a group 
of pelicans, who had been fishing, back to 
their nests on Moro in screaming indigna¬ 
tion, he yelled, as he pointed to the open 


AGAIN THE BLACK CROSS 65 

hatch: “ Commodore, step alive there! Go 
down into the galley and render whatever 
assistance is necessary to the ship’s cook! ” 

“Aye, aye, sir!” was the delighted re¬ 
sponse, as the small boy dived below decks 
with Archie at his heels. A few minutes later 
the tutor’s voice called up the companion- 
way: 

“ ‘ O Captain, my Captain,’ it’s hot as 
tophet down here ! No hay heilo, either ! ’ 

“ Aw, speak English, Mr. Archie,” Pat 
expostulated, sticking his head down the 
hatch. 

“ Well, in other words, there’s no ice, so 
heaven send that the wind has cooled the 
water in that alcarazar up in the rigging. Run 
aloft, my hearty, and bring it down—and if 
you drop it I’ll come up and break your 
head.” 

“ Huh! ” Pat grinned. “ Your hearty will 
get it, but he’s not going aloft, he weighs too 
much. The Captain,” looking at Don’s big 
bulk, “ is agile and spry; he’ll fetch it.” 

“ Well, since ‘ a voice from the tomb ’ 
won’t move you, Patsie,” Archie said as he 
climbed on deck, the tan on the big muscles 


66 


EIGHT BELLS 


of his bare arms and shoulders glistening 
under the sweat that tumbled from them, 
“ Ell get the blamed thing myself,” and in a 
few seconds he had the big, earthenware 
water jar under one arm and had again dis¬ 
appeared below, and in a moment later the 
really beautiful tones of his fresh, young 
baritone were heard singing jovially to the 
accompaniment of rattling tins: 

“ ‘ Of all the wives as e’er I know— 

Yea-ho, lads ho, 

Yea-ho, lads ho— 

There’s none like Nancy Lee, I trow— 
Yea ho, lads ho, lads ho! 

And there she stands and waves her 
hands upon the quay ’— 

“ Hand me those eggs, there’s a good fel¬ 
low, Commodore. That’s the stuff! Look 
out for the hot fat when I drop ’em in; and 
say, sing, that’s a good chap! ” and then, as 
the eggs crackled and hissed in the skillet, 
he continued: 

And offers up a prayer of love for Jack 
at sea— 

Yea-ho, lads ho, lads ho! ’ ” 


a ( 



AGAIN THE BLACK CROSS 


6 7 


Billy was one of the special chorister-boys 
at Eton, and it was good to hear the clear, 
passionless notes of his boy-voice blending 
with the smooth, soft deepness of the 
baritone: 

“ ‘ A sailor’s wife a sailor’s star should be— 
Yea-ho, we go across the sea! 

A sailor’s wife a sailor’s star should be— 
Yea-ho, we go across the sea! ’ ” 

After several repetitions of this song 
Billy appeared on deck to say that the ship’s 
cook said that if the Captain and the First 
Officer wanted any supper, they would have 
to come on down and help bring it up, and 
so Pat and Don lent a hand with the ham, 
eggs, toast, jam and tea, with condensed 
milk, that constituted the meal, and they all 
fell to with a will. 

“ The beauty of this mode of life,” said 
Archie, when they had finished, “ is that 
washing up is so simple. All we have to do 
is to put the plates and cups and so on in that 
big dishpan forward, pour hot water over 
them, and leave it for the gentle Bias.” 

“ What about a swim? ” the Middie asked. 


68 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Good idea, after a little. When I’ve 
smoked two pipefuls we can strip off, slip 
on our trunks—we’re too near the village, 
I’m sorry to say, for us to bathe as the Good 
Lord intended—and we’ll have a plunge. In 
the meantime, Pat, get out your violin and 
play something really worth while, and then 
Don will get his banjo, and we’ll all bay at 
the moon.” 

Pat went down into the small cabin and 
returned with his precious violin, an almost 
priceless Cremona. A strange mixture, this 
mischievous, dark skinned English school¬ 
boy! For in the crystalline of his soul he 
held the musical ability of a genius, and the 
Bishop had spared no expense in his training. 

Now, in the stillness that had settled over 
the face of the quiet, grey waters, came the 
tones of the lovely old instrument, and 
Archie, his beautiful, muscular young bulk 
curled up on the deck, with the night wind off 
the Pacific rumpling his golden curls, sighed 
ecstatically. 

First the somber, life history as sung out 
wonderfully from under the dark lad’s bow, 
and from the brown fingers of his rather 


AGAIN THE BLACK CROSS 


69 


heavy, very thick wristed hand, as told in 
Carl Bohm’s great “ Elegie,” and then, deli¬ 
cately pure, like some bit of rare old lace, 
broke the singing notes of the Humoresque, 
changing at the end to the richer depths of 
the G string in the double toned, muted har¬ 
monics of the finale. 

Not a sound followed Dvorak's tiny mas¬ 
terpiece, except the soft splash of oars as 
some flat bottomed panga rowed by, and even 
this ceased a moment later, as the rower 
rested on his oars, listening to the music, for 
Pat had begun to play again, this time the 
baccarolle from “ Les Contes d’Hoffman.” 
The very words almost sang themselves from 
the humming strings: 

“ O belle nuit, O nuit d’amour.” 

As he finished playing, Don, who had 
taken out his banjo, slipped it back into its 
case with a shy little shake of his head, and 
Pat, after putting both his own and Don’s 
instruments once more in the cabin, came 
on deck again, his brown eyes, their usual 
impishness gone, all soft with the look of 
some husky boy lover. 


70 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Can’t we go for that swim now, Mr. 
Archie? ” Billy asked, breaking the stillness. 
“ I’m no end keen to go.” 

“ Yes, we’ll peel off right now,” and in 
almost no time the four friends were 
stripped, save for their short trunks, and 
were balancing in a row on the sloop’s side. 

“ We look like the flags of all nations! ” 
Pat laughed. “ Just glance down the line at 
the trunks, will you? Don’s are white, like 
his legs, with a navy blue stripe down the 
side; yours are black, Mr. Archie; mine are 
the sky blue Eton trunks, and so are the 
Commodore’s. 

It was a contrast of more than trunks, 
however, as the four stood balancing there. 
Archie, perfectly built from head to toe, like 
some young Greek God, or a second Pheidip- 
pides, the skin of his big body as smooth as 
satin. Next to him, Pat; a sun browned, dark 
eyed, fun-loving young imp, with a mass of 
thick, fluffy dark hair with splashes of gold 
in it, the skin of his saucy, turned up nosed 
face as smooth as that on his stocky, well 
muscled body, and holding the same soft tan, 
even down to his thick, capable wrists, and 


AGAIN THE BLACK CROSS 


7i 


his ankles. Then Don, his yellow head as 
usual with his hair slicked carefully back, 
big, blonde, pink and white as to face, his 
skin having the same glossiness as Archie's, 
only more cream colored and less pure white 
than the tutor’s, like ivory, his arms stretched 
above his head ready for the dive. Last of all 
the little Commodore, looking more husky 
now that he was naked, than anyone would 
have thought to see him dressed, brown 
armed, white bodied, slim, and very much 
alive, holding himself easily like the rest, 
waiting for the signal to go in. 

“Get on your marks, set, go!” called 
Archie, and in flashed the four, and as they 
all came to the surface, their whoops of de¬ 
light could have been heard for half a mile 
or so. 

“How’s this for swimming, Don?” the 
tutor laughed happily, as, a half hour later, 
they stood, all dripping wet, on the deck. 

“ Fine and dandy, sir,” the Middie replied, 
“ but we all forgot one thing; ’specially the 
Commodore.” 

“ What’d I forget, Donny?” Billy asked 
suspiciously. 


72 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Gee-runch-up! ” Don answered solemn¬ 
ly, and just dodged in time to miss Archie's 
wet trunks, which, rolled into a ball, had 
been thrown at his head. 

Billy sighed: 

“ That’s right,” he said slowly. “ We 
didn’t see a thing of Taboga Bill, did we? 
Not even a fin! Gee!” 

“ Too bad, wasn’t it? ” Archie chuckled. 

“Rather! ” with a giggle, from Pat, and 
as they all began to dress, he added, “ Rotten 
luck we missed the old dear. I told you he 
was a fish of sorts.” 


CHAPTER IX 


“MR. MANDARIN” 

" And wow! Tam saw an unco’ sight! 

Warlocks and witches in a dance; 

Nae cotillion brent new frae France, 

But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels. 

Put life and inettle in their heels. 

At winnock-bunker in the east. 

There sat auld Nick in shape o' beast; 

A towsie tyke, black, grim, and large. 

To gie them music was his charge.” 

( —Robert Burns.) 

It had been planned the night before that 
the “ wardroom mess ” would all get up 
early, before six-thirty coffee, and take an¬ 
other plunge, but, as the sun rose out of the 
ocean, and the clouds of thick vapor began 
to lift, the chill dampness of the tropical 
rainy season made the water anything but 
inviting. Bias and Smith had both found a 
place in the village where they were to stay 
except for a couple of hours in the morning, 
or when they were especially wanted, and so 
the four left on board the good ship 
“ Sapalo ” had more room. 


73 


74 


EIGHT BELLS 


Promptly at six o'clock Don ran up the 
yachting ensign from the flagstaff aft, and 
as the breeze caught it and blew it out, the 
appearance from the distance was like that 
of the regular national ensign, for both have 
the thirteen stripes of red and white, and the 
blue field for the stars is identical. Instead 
of the regular number of stars, however, the 
yachting ensign has a circle of thirteen, sur¬ 
rounding a white anchor. 

While Bias was washing the dishes after 
coffee, a panga put off from the island and 
rowed over toward the Sapalo. As it drew 
alongside and the stalwart, bare-legged boat¬ 
man put up his oars, the person in the stern 
sheets, a handsome Spanish boy of about 
Billy's age, handed a note to Archie, who 
leaned over the rail to get it. 

“ It is for the Senor Midshipman," he 
said, and, evidently feeling that he had done 
all that anyone could require of him, he 
gave an order ko the boatman, and was 
rowed away. 

“ Don," Archie grinned, as he walked aft 
with the letter in his hand, “ here are laurels 
for you, you young fusser. I see clearly that 


“MR. MANDARIN” 


75 


you’ll make good as a naval officer; nobody 
else could have begun a correspondence with 
a dark eyed Senorita in so short a time.” 

Don blushed. 

“ I didn’t! ” he said, a little gruffly. 

“ Sure you did. You must have. Here’s 
the proof,” handing him the note. 

“ ‘ Donny did, Donny didn’t!”’ Pat 
laughed, as he poked his head up the com¬ 
panion. “ Who’s the girl, you stripling? ” 

“ Donny’s gittin’ to be a lady-killer! ” 
from Billy. 

“ ‘ Et tu, Brute? ’ ” said Don, turning his 
flushed face to the small boy. “ Didn’t think 
my Commodore would go back on me.” 

“ I didn’t mean a thing,” the youngster 
expostulated. “ Honest I didn’t, Don.” 

“ You solemn little beggar,” Don smiled, 
as he rumpled the boy’s yellow head, “ I was 
just joking with you. You had a right to 
kid me. The blamed thing is for me; and it’s 
in a lady’s handwriting, too. Gee! ” 

“ 4 1 sent a letter to my love,’ ” Pat 
hummed. “ Open her up, Captain, and see 
what she says. Oh, you sea-dogs, you sea- 


76 


EIGHT BELLS 


dogs! What a way you have with the 
ladies! ” 

“ Are you going to let me read this durned 
note, or are you not?” gruffly from Don, 
and then, opening the letter, read: 

“ A mia querida Propiedad : 

Be sure to take two eggs, you can obtain 
them from the ‘ Chino/ Mow Wow, on the 
street leading to the American sanitarium, 
and go with them, with speed, to the house of 
La Foula Preciosa. She is old and ugly, this 
Preciosa, but she is a saint, as you will find 
when she has your two eggs into pan con 
hnevos turned. It is the bread of heaven, mio 
muchacho! and the two eggs will make a big 
ring of such a size that your little boy of 
many millions can put it about his waist. 
The cost is two reales, one peseta. 

Is not this a good English letter ? My love 
to la Senora, your mother, when you write, 

and thank her for giving to me the felicity 
of knowing her nice boy. 

Adios, mia Propiedad ! Manuel and my¬ 
self we wish to you the most jolliest of nice 
times, you and your good friends. Hasta la 
vista. 

Su amiga, 

La Senora de la Presidencia.” 




“MR. MANDARIN ” 


77 


“ Now, wasn’t that just dandy of her? ” 
Don exclaimed when he had finished read¬ 
ing the note, and the blush on his smooth 
face had changed to a pleased smile. 

“ She’s lovely in every way,” Archie 
agreed, “ and I wouldn’t have teased you 
about that note if I had known it was from 
Madam Amador. I’d as leave teased you 
about your own mother.” 

“ Yes,” Billy interrupted, “ my mater 
says she’s ever so nice—but what about that 
bread? Let’s fix it up this morning.” 

“ Which are my sentiments also, Buster, 
and as ship’s cook I second the motion. The 
first thing to do is to call Bias and find out 
where La Foula Preciosa lives.” 

“ Oh, no, Mr. Archie,” from the Middie. 
“ Leave it to the strategic ability of your 
Captain. The first thing to do is to find out 
where that Chink, Mow Wow, hangs out, 
so we can get the eggs. Gee, isn’t it fun to 
think of having to buy eggs from one person 
to take to someone else to make a loaf of 
bread that only costs ten cents, gold? ” 


78 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ You’re right, Captain. Send the First 
Officer forward to find out the lay of the 
land from Bias.” 

“ That means you, Patsie boy,” said Don, 
“ so trot.” 

Pat went forward and returned almost 
immediately, with Bias at his heels, both 
talking at once. 

“ What’s up ? ” Don asked. 

“ Senor Pat says you wish to buy eggs 
from the store of Mow Wow, sir,” Bias ex¬ 
plained, “ and he asks me if I know where 
is that store. It is a store of the worst kind, 
and the eggs!—they are older than La 
Preciosa herself, and she is ninety-two, the 
Virgin bless her! ” and he crossed himself. 

“ Well, we can buy eggs at other places, 
can’t we, Bias? ” Billy asked. 

“ Si, Senorito ! And a place far more 
suited for El Comandante, though vile 
enough. All who live in Taboga are pigs! 
It is different at Otoki, much’ different! 
There is another Chino who has a store not 
far from the little church of Corpus Christi. 
He has a small place, but he is very rich. 
He is called Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat, 


“MR. MANDARIN” 


79 


though what his real name is, the good God 
alone knows! He calls his store ‘ La Mano 
del Dios ’—‘ the Hand of God’—for all 
things are obtainable there.” 

“ Well, we’ll get you to show us to the 
place about half-past nine this morning,” 
said Don. “ That’s all we want to know right 
now. Thank you, Bias,” and as the boy re¬ 
turned forward he added: “ Wonder why 
he’s so keen for us to go to that store? ” 

“ Probably expects a rake off as commis¬ 
sion from the Chinaman for bringing us 
there,” Archie answered. “ Do you know, 
I’m not overly fond of our dear friend Bias! 
But I will say one thing for him, he seems 
really fond of the Commodore. Still, all 
Latin-Americans like children—as play¬ 
things.” 

“ Better not let Billy hear you call him a 
plaything,” said Don. “ Where is he, any¬ 
how? ” 

“ He’s below.” 

“ What’s he up to?” 

“ He’s putting on a clean, sleeveless under¬ 
shirt. It’s awfully hot, and I can’t see why 
a little chap like him shouldn’t wear as few 


8o 


EIGHT BELLS 


clothes as he can, so I recommended the 
aforesaid undersjhirt, a pair of his duck 
knickers, and sandals. He’s been after me 
ever since yesterday morning to let him go 
barefooted, and, as you know, I’ve let him, 
like the rest of us, while we’re on board, but 
after what your medical friend told you at 
Ancon, about children not going barefooted 
down here, I don’t feel it would be right, off 
the boat, and after all, so long as his legs are 
bare, and most of his feet, too, what’s the 
difference? Let him use one of your white 
duck Jackie’s caps, will you? ” 

“ You just bet I will, sir! But here he is, 
and here’s Pat. Yay, Bias ! V eng a aqui! 
And bring the gig around here. All hands 
are going ashore, except Smith, and he can 
row back and wait for us on board till we 
whistle for him.” 

The light, round bottomed gig required 
careful handling as they neared the shore, 
for the tide was on the ebb, and it took a 
good deal of skill to steer her among the 
rocks without harm. Finally, as her nose 
grated against the sand of the beach, with 
only a narrow strip of shallow water, not 


“MR. MANDARIN ” 


81 


more than a few inches deep, between her 
how and the shore, the boys jumped out and 
raced up the sandy stretch, to find shade in a 
thin grove of tamarisks and lignum vita 
trees, a road from which led directly into 
the village, only a hundred or so yards away, 
up a rather steep, cobble paved little street, 
and passed some old stone ruins. 

As Don looked at Pat and Archie, and then 
at himself, he said with a good deal of satis¬ 
faction, albeit somewhat shamefacedly: 

“ Well, we do look like three real, sure 
’nough Jackies, don’t we? ” 

“ I don’t know what we look like,” Archie 
answered, mopping the perspiration from 
his neck and chest, left bare by the open 
middie blouse, with its loosely knotted black 
silk “ fore-in-hand,” “ but I feel like a broiled 
live lobster.” 

“ Speaking of lobsters,” Pat struck in, 
“ reminds me of ‘ eats.’ I wonder if we 
couldn’t get breakfast somewhere in Taboga. 
It’ll be about eleven o’clock by the time we 
get those eggs, and look up La Foula. How 
about it, Bias? ” 


82 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ La Senora Fiamosa has often taken 
Americans to board, if you wish to go there, 
Senor Capitan,” to Don. Bias disliked Pat. 

“ How about it, Mr. Archie? ” 

“ Right-o! and we’ll now proceed, five 
strong, to look up the Chino and buy two 
eggs. Come ahead, boys! Lead the way, 
Bias! ” and off they started up the steep 
street of the village, and did not stop until 
they had crossed the little plaza in front of 
the church and, turning up a little alleyway, 
so narrow as to let them walk only two 
abreast, and very steep, with some crooked, 
broken down wooden steps helping their 
climb, they came to a small, yellow ochre 
house, above the open door of which was 
written in clumsy letters of a strange, dull 
red, “ La Mano del Dios.” 

It was stiflingly hot inside, and the smells 
that assailed one’s nostrils were innumer¬ 
able—chief among them being the odor of 
Jamaica rum, black Cuban tobacco, and the 
heavy, sickeningly sweet pungency of stale 
opium. 

Passing by the two or three little tables 
that stood about the floor, each of which held 


“MR. MANDARIN ” 


83 


its quota of rough looking men, Archie, his 
hand on the Commodore's bare shoulder, 
walked across to the dirty counter, behind 
which rose a number of shelves filled with 
everything imaginable, from canned salmon 
from Sitka, to embroidered slippers from 
Canton. A spry, skinny Chinaman darted 
behind the counter: 

“ Mellicans! ” he chattered in a high voice. 
“ Goody boys! Got alia tings here—samee 
Frisco! Alee glood! Allee chleep, chleep! " 

Billy laughed, and even Archie could not 
help smiling as he said quietly: 

“ All we want is a couple of fresh eggs, 
John." 

“ No sabe eggs," the Chinaman squealed. 

“ Bueno," said Archie. “ Dame dos 
huevos." 

“ Goody man," the Asiatic grinned. “ Me 
sabe now. Me got." 

At this moment the dark curtain that hung 
over an opening that evidently let into an¬ 
other room, was pushed wide and there 
entered another Chinaman. He moved with 
absolutely no noise, though he was very 
short and heavy. He had a bland, humorous 


8 4 


EIGHT BELLS 


old face, and the long, thin, grey mustache 
that drooped from his lip seemed to balance, 
in some degree, the long queue that fell down 
his plump back. He was dressed in dark 
blue silk, of the pajama-like pattern used by 
so many of his race, and he was spotlessly 
clean. In his mouth was a long, thin¬ 
stemmed pipe with a tiny bowl. 

“Go away, Poy!” he said to his com¬ 
patriot, and turning to Archie, continued in 
a soft voice, and in perfect English: “ What 
can I do for you? Poy is a good boy, 

but-” and he tapped his forehead with 

one finger, the nail of which was at least an 
inch long. 

“ I’d like two eggs, please/’ Archie replied 
with the courtesy he felt it necessary to show 
in order to match the other’s manner. 

“ We have some here, but they are not 
very fresh. Excuse the noise those Spanish 
pigs make; they mean no harm.” 

“ Ain’t you got any fresh eggs, Mr. 
Mandarin Man?” Billy asked, looking up 
with a friendly little smile at the old fellow. 
“ We wanted to git ’em so we could have 
some pan con huevos.” 



“MR. MANDARIN ” 


85 


For the least fraction of a second the 
Chinaman's slanting eyes narrowed as he 
looked at the child, and then he said, with a 
kindly beam on his fat face: 

“ I think, if my little Boy Prince wants 
the eggs, ‘ Mr. Mandarin ’ will have to sup¬ 
ply him. There are six fresh eggs that I 
was saving to curry for my breakfast to-day. 
I will gladly give you two.” And he walked 
to the end of the shelves and reached up, 
standing on tiptoe and then, still unable to 
reach what he wanted, making two or three 
comical little hops. 

“ It is a curse to be so short and fat! ” he 
said, turning apologetically to his waiting 
customers. “ If the little Prince there will 
jump on the counter and will reach ’way up, 
he can get the eggs; but please do not break 
them.” And then, after a short sentence to 
Poy in Chinese, he stood back, while Archie 
gave Billy his hand and he jumped on to the 
counter and, stretching one of his slim arms 
above his head, felt on the shelf for the eggs. 
Crossed on the soft, damp skin of his armpit, 
the thin, blue lines of the cut showed clearly. 
Hardly raising his eyes from the floor, the 


86 


EIGHT BELLS 


Chinaman remained impassive, and then, 
looking up, he gazed out of the small window 
over his door, and took a long look at the top 
of Ancon peak, on which rested the old, 
black cross. Strange that, for a second, as 
he looked, the men at the tables became quiet, 
but almost immediately they resumed their 
convivial hilarity. 

“ But I say, I can’t find any eggs up here,” 
came Billy’s disappointed voice. 

“ None up there?” from the Chinaman. 
“ That’s very odd! Poy! ” and again he 
spoke in his native language. “ Ah! ” he 
said, with a smile, “ I see! Silly Poy! He 
moved the eggs, he says, under the counter. 
I am very sorry. Let me help you down,” 
and, giving the child one of his fat hands, 
he helped him to jump to the floor. 

“ Here are the eggs,” he said, taking out 
two and putting them in a clean paper bag. 
“ One real, please.” 

“Oh, I say, Mr. Mandarin Man!” said 
Billy, as he handed him the money. “ Won’t 
you give us a ‘ come ’shore ’ ? ” 

“ You have been in China, haven’t you? ” 
the old man laughed. “ I’ve given many a 















t 



































HE HANDED THE DELIGHTED SMALL BOY A TINY SANDALWOOD BOX. 
















“MR. MANDARIN ” 


87 


‘ come 'shore ' to Americans, over in Hong- 
Kong. Here is something for you," and he 
handed the delighted small boy a tiny sandal¬ 
wood box, very beautifully carved. 

“ Oh, thank you ever so much ! 99 cried 
Billy. 

“ It's mighty good of you to give it to 
him," said Archie, “ but it's too fine a ‘ come 
'shore' for two eggs. Better not keep it, 
Commodore." 

“ But I say, Mr. Archie," Billy pleaded, 
“ I do want to keep it, lots." 

“ Please let him keep it, sir," the old China¬ 
man asked. “ It's really not valuable. Thank 
you for buying the eggs, gentlemen. And 
try not to forget my little store. My name is 
Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat, but to the little 
Prince there I am always 4 Mr. Mandarin.' " 


CHAPTER X 


AT THE SIGN OF THE RED TABLE 

CLOTH 

“ Yon rising moon that looks for us again — 

How oft hereafter will she wax and wane; 

How oft, hereafter, rising look for us 
Through this same garden—and for One in vain." 

“And when like her, O Saki, you shall pass 
Among the guests star-scatter d on the grass. 

And in your joyous errand reach the spot 
Where I ?nade One—turn down an empty glass." 

( —Omar Khayyam.) 

“ Out flew the web and floated wide. 

The mirror cracked from side to side, 

The curse has come upon me!’ cried 
The Lady of Shalott." 

( —Alfred Tennyson.) 

“ What an awful time you fellows took to 
buy a couple of eggs! ” Don greeted Archie 
and Billy as they came out of La Mano del 
Dios, and joined him and Pat, who had been 
waiting for them outside. 

“ Sorry I kept you waiting so long, old 
man,” Archie answered, “ but there was a 
mix-up about getting fresh eggs.” 


88 


SIGN OF THE RED TABLE CLOTH 89 

“ Looked to me like all sorts of a nice, 
respectable place, I don’t think! ” Pat chimed 
in. 

“ Pretty tough,” the tutor admitted, “ and 
I believe in my soul that Bias lied about 
Mow Wow’s place being worse. You know 
very well that Madam Amador wouldn’t 
have told us to go to a joint like that. It 
reminded me of Prosper Merrimee’s account 
of Lilias Pastia’s wine shop, and, honestly, I 
felt like Browning’s priest— 

‘ Caught in an alley’s end, 

Where sportive ladies leave their 
doors ajar!’ 

Good Lord! I forgot about my Commodore! 
I didn’t mean to say that, youngster. Did 
Bias tell you boys how to get to Senora 
Fiamosa’s place, Don? ” 

“ He did. You couldn’t have had direc¬ 
tions more easy to follow. He said to follow 
the street that leads south from the Plaza del 
Corpus Christi, and there’s only one street 
going south, until we came to the house of 
La Foula Preciosa. Said the street butt 
spang against it, and then turned at right 
angles.” 


90 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ But what’s all that got to do with Madam 
Fiamosa’s place ? ” 

“ Why, in that artless little Spanish way 
of his, he told us that the old lady would tell 
us how to find Madam Fiamosa’s house.” 

“ Of all the fool, indirect instructions! ” 
Archie exploded. Then he laughed. “ But 
it’s just like Bias! ” and they all walked 
across the Plaza, and followed the little street 
which, sure enough, led them to the door of 
La Preciosa. 

“ The Precious One ” was sitting outside 
her house decked in a dirty camison, which 
slipped off her skinny shoulders with a 
coquetry more suggestive of sixteen than 
ninety-two. She must have had light hair 
once upon a time, judging from her title of 
“ La Foula ” (the Blonde), but it was now 
grey and it, and the aforementioned camison 
constituted the major part of her costume. 
So scanty was it, in fact, that the two half 
grown boys—Don and Pat—blushed up to 
their hair, and Archie chuckled delightedly 
at their show of modesty. 

“ I say, ain’t she ugly? ” Billy whispered. 

4 But maybe that ain’t her.” 


SIGN OF THE RED TABLE CLOTH 91 


The old woman held a well worn rosary in 
one hand and in the other she wielded a 
short, wooden handled whip with a long, 
broad leather lash, with which she waged an 
almost continuous war on some thin, hungry 
looking goats, filling in her spare time in 
prayers. So completely engrossed was she 
in this that she paid no attention to the four 
strangers for some time, so at last Archie 
spoke to her in Spanish: 

“ Buenos dias, Mamita ! ” he said, taking 
off his cap. “ Madam Amador, over in 
Panama, told us to come to you and beg you 
to make us some pan con huevos. See, here 
are the eggs.” 

“ La Senora is an angel, and may our 
Blessed Lady be good to her. Devil! ” this 
last to one of the goats, “ come away from 
that door! It is you, you wicked Amorosa! ” 
giving “ the Love ” a whack across its back 
with her whip. “ I am honored, Senor, to 
make my poor egg bread for you. Leave but 
—Dear God! look at Hermosita! Almost in 
my house! ” and she leaned forward quickly, 
and clubbed “ the little Beautiful ” over the 
head with the handle of her weapon. “ Let 


92 


EIGHT BELLS 


me beg a thousand pardons, Senor. The 
goats are possessed of devils! What I 
started to say was that if you will leave the 
eggs and the peseta with me, you shall have 
the bread in the morning. Heaven bless the 
beautiful little boy! Only look at him! ” and 
she began to laugh shrilly as she pointed to 
Billy, who, encouraged by Pat, had jumped 
on the back of the offending Amorosa, and 
was riding that astonished animal. 

“ Viva el picador! ” Don laughed. How 
about it, Mamita ? ” All of us thank you 
ever so much for the pan con huevos. I bet 
you hats it’ll be dandy! ” 

“ You are a nice boy, and so is the big 
fellow,” La Preciosa smiled. “ Therefore I 
shall put in some cabanga with the bread. 
And my grand-daughter, Ezabelita, shall 
make it.” 

“What’s it like, Mamita?” the Middie 
asked, smiling down, quite gently, at the 
hideous old woman. 

“ It is made of cocoanut, pinas (pine¬ 
apples), and brown sugar, and it is very 
sweet. As long as you have a piece of it left, 
you pretty boy, you will still have love in 


SIGN OF THE RED TABLE CLOTH 93 

your heart for the girl who gives it to you. 
I will tell Ezabelita to make a piece of the 
largest size for you, and it is so sweet that 
you can only eat it slowly. Good-bye, all of 
you.” 

Pat, a deep pink under his tan, was the 
last to leave the little house in the calle del 
Toro, and why?—oh, well, the others only 
knew it some time afterwards, but if the 
truth is to be known, I must tell you that 
while La Foula was chattering with Don and 
Archie, the English school-boy, shy as a girl, 
was making little holes in the ground with 
the toe of one shoe, blushing all the while, 
and yet his dark eyes were laughing, if a bit 
bashfully, as he chatted softly with the little 
Ezabelita, who had placed in one of his warm 
hands a big piece of the aforesaid cabanga , 
which, she informed him quite coolly, she 
had intended sending him by Bias, having 
‘ made friends ’ with him—her own words— 
all the afternoon before, by watching him on 
the deck of the “ Sapalo,” from a certain 
rock near the top of Moro where she often 
went, so she said, to think, and to look out 
on the sea; after which, without even enough 


94 


EIGHT BELLS 


spunk to look up, young Pat muttered a 
rather gruff “ Thank you, ever so!” and 
then raced after his companions, rather 
elated by the feeling that the small girl was 
watching his husky back until he turned out 
of sight. 

After leaving La Foula Preciosa, the four 
friends remembered that they had not found 
out where Senora Fiamosa lived, but the 
very first person they asked showed them to 
her house, which was just at the junction of 
the cobbled street and the sandy road that 
led up to the old French sanitarium, now 
owned by the United States. 

Madam received them effusively, and told 
them that Bias had already told her of their 
coming. In spite of the cordiality of her 
welcome, however, the good lady was very 
careful to collect and pocket one peso silver 
(fifty cents gold) from each, and then she led 
the way, swimmingly, into the dining-room, 
where breakfast was waiting. 

The room had a dirt floor, and benches 
surrounded the table in lieu of chairs. The 
most conspicuous thing in the place was the 


SIGN OF THE RED TABLE CLOTH 95 


bright, turkey red table cloth, which made up 
in brilliancy whatever it lacked in cleanliness. 

The first course for breakfast was a 
breaded filet, which la Senora said was veal, 
but as Archie had noticed a pile of iguanas 
in the side yard, he and the others passed it 
by, so that they ate the rest of the meal, 
steaming bowls of san cocho (a sort of 
Brunswick stew, made with chicken and corn 
on the cob) with great relish. 

“ I wonder if she’d get mad if I asked for 
some more?” said Pat. “ Ask her, please, 
Mr. Archie.” 

La Senora said she was delighted, and that 
the san cocho was eternally honored, and she 
bustled out of the room for more. Unfortu¬ 
nately for the peace of mind, or I should 
say the peace of stomach, of the four friends, 
she left the door leading into the kitchen 
open, and so they beheld the cook, an aged 
female of the Preciosa type, stirring the pot 
of san cocho with a teaspoon, her brown, 
skinny arm up to the elbow in it. 

“ The curly headed American boy in 
there,” La Senora said, “ wishes more.” 
whereupon the decrepit functionary drew her 


g6 


EIGHT BELLS 


arm out of the pot and, as it was well coated 
with vegetables and hers was a truly frugal 
nature, she proceeded to carefully scrape 
them back into the stew with the aid of the 
teaspoon. 

“That’s enough for me!” gasped the 
Commodore. “ Let’s go! ” and they all fled 
from the house. 

“ But they are droll, these Americans! ” 
cried La Senora, as she looked after them. 
“ Ah, well! praised be the saints! they paid.” 
And she returned to the kitchen. 

“ Never again! ” said Pat, as they got into 
the gig and put off for the Sapalo. “ The 
sign of the red table cloth never sees this 
boy any more! ” 

“ Same here! ” from the others, and then, 
after a pause, Archie added: 

“ Well, we’ll have to eat on board all the 
time, I guess, which means that Buster and 
I will have to pay another visit to ‘ Mr. 
Mandarin.’ ” 

»!f »}> v}r vO vV ^ 

Late that night Archie, who was a light 
sleeper, was aroused by hearing someone 
sobbing and, naturally, thinking of Billy, he 


SIGN OF THE RED TABLE CLOTH 97 

slipped over to his bunk, but found the small 
boy sleeping soundly, so he moved toward 
the other side of the cabin where Don and 
Pat slept, and, as he softly walked toward 
their bunks, he heard the sobbing more 
clearly, and it undoubtedly came from on 
deck. Treading quietly in his bare feet, he 
slipped up the companion, and, once on deck, 
he found, greatly to his surprise, the Bishop’s 
son, huddled close to the wheel, his back to 
the little brass ship’s clock. In his soft, baggy, 
white pajamas he looked like some sturdy, 
heartbroken young Pierrot. In his arms was 
clasped his rare, old Cremona, and his fluffy, 
dark head was bent over it, one tear-wet, 
tanned cheek pressed close against it. 

“ Why, Pat! ” Archie exclaimed, and then, 
with the wonderful gentleness that one sees 
shown, not unoften, from one man to an¬ 
other in moments of real distress, he sat 
down by him and passed one of his big arms 
around the crying boy. 

“What is it, son?” he asked. “What is it?” 

With his right hand the youngster dashed 
away the tears from his eyes, still holding 
his beloved violin tightly. 


98 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ I couldn’t sleep,” he spoke quietly now, 
“ it—it was so awful hot in our cabin—and 
so I thought I’d just slip up on deck and— 
play a little—real easy, so as not to wake 
you fellows. Well, I—I got out on deck and 
played the first thing that came into my head 
—that thing of Grieg’s from the Peer Gynt 
suite, you know, Asa’s Tod—and—and— 
just when I’d played a little, the c-clock here 
tinkled out ‘ eight bells ’—and so I stopped to 
listen—and when it was all still again I drew 
my bow across the G string—and—and— 
Oh, my God! my violin cracked the whole 
length of the sounding board! It’s just like 
it was dead! ” and he burst out crying again. 

“ Steady, old man! ” the tutor said quietly, 
but Pat interrupted him : 

“ Paganini played on it when it was new,” 
he said between his sobs, “ an’ Elman played 
on it last year, over in London, an’ he liked 
it ever so—but, oh, Archie! I—I loved it! ” 





CHAPTER XI 
“ YON RISING MOON ” 


" Of ships, and sails, and sealing wax, 

Of cabbages and kings. 

Of why the sea is boiling hot, 

And whether pigs have wings .” 

( —Lewis Carroll.) 

By the time that Archie had got breakfast 
ready the next morning, Pat had regained his 
good spirits, and while the ‘ ship’s cook ’ took 
his siesta, the three boys loafed for a while, 
watching the burning disk of the noon-day 
sun disappear behind the thick, grey clouds 
which heralded the oncoming of the regular 
afternoon rain storm. Looking across the 
still, peaceful expanse of the ocean, toward 
the mountainous line of the coast, they could 
see that it was already raining in Panama 
city, and a few minutes later the first drops 
began to fall softly on the canvas deck awn¬ 
ing. With the rain came a delightfully cool 
breeze. 

“ Whew! ” Pat exclaimed. “ It don’t rain 
down here, does it, Don ? The sky just opens 

99 


100 


EIGHT BELLS 


and the water tumbles out. I wish it was the 
dry season! We ain’t got on much at present, 
except our skins, but for all that I guess we’ll 
stay on board.” 

“That’s right!” Don answered. “You 
and I were going to climb to the top of Moro 
this afternoon, weren’t we? Well, maybe 
it’ll clear off this afternoon.” 

“ Not it—not till about four o’clock, like 
it always does. I say, what’ll we do? It’s 
no end dull.” 

“ I’ll get out my trusty banjo, and make 
our Commodore sing ‘ Kulla-lo-lo,’ like the 
fair Supi-yaw-lat, Kipling’s Mandalay girl, 
you know. How about it, Commodore ? ” 

“ Right-o! Unless we’ll wake up Mr. 
Archie,” Billy answered. 

“ That’s a fact,” Pat agreed. “ Well, we’ve 
just got to do something. This is rotten. 
Chuck me that book, Commodore; over there 
by Mr. Archie. Let’s see what he’s been 
reading. That’s it! ” and, opening the book 
at random, he read with much gravity: 

“ ‘ O Sorrow! 

Why dost borrow 


“ YON RISING MOON ” 


IOI 


The lustrous passion from a falcon eye? 
To give the glow worm light, 

Or, on a moonless night, 

To tinge, on siren shores, the salt sea 
spray? 

O Sorrow! 

Why dost borrow, 

The mellow-’ ” 

“ If you fellows are goin’ to read that 
stuff,” said Billy, “ I’m going forward an’ 
read a real book.” And he dived between 
decks, returning promptly with a well worn 
copy of “ Two Little Savages,” a book that 
he adored, and looking reproachfully at the 
laughing Pat, he walked to the bow. 

“ What’d you want to drive the poor little 
chap away for? ” Don asked in surprise. 

“I did it on purpose. I wanted to ask you 
something.” 

“ What?” 

“ Why, where on earth did our Commo¬ 
dore get that bluish-black cross on his arm- 
pit? I noticed it a couple of mornings ago 
while we were drying off after our swim, and 
he was naked. Have you seen it? ” 



102 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Why, yes,” Don replied, “ I have. I 
thought it had been there a long time.” 

“ Well, it hasn't. Tell you how I know. 
He was my ‘ fag' last half at Eton, and in 
warm weather we used to go in swimming a 
lot, in the Thames, and so Eve seen him 
stripped lots of times, and I'm sure I'd have 
noticed it.” 

“ Why don’t you ask Mr. Archie about 
it?” 

“ Uh-uh! He’s just the best sort ever un¬ 
less he thinks there's something wrong with 
Billy, but then he's right up in the air! ” and 
with a wriggle of delight he continued: “ I 
say, it’s sort of creepy, ain’t it, Captain ? ” 

Don laughed. 

“ You crazy old curly-head, you! ” he said 
affectionately. “ I believe you'd get fun out 
of a funeral.” 

“ Why, sure, I would,” Pat grinned, wag¬ 
ging his finger at Don. On it was a very 
handsome, rather massive, gold seal ring. 

“ While we're asking each other questions, 
my little Petrel,” said Don, “ tell me some¬ 
thing. Is that gold collar you wear on your 
finger an heirloom, or what ? ” 


“ YON RISING MOON ” 


103 


Pat heaved a prodigious sigh and then an 
impish twinkle came into his dark eyes, as he 
said, with an attempt at gentle melancholy: 

“Ah! Donny, you mustn’t ask me that! 
Never since the night that that ring was 
placed on my finger by the hand of the peer¬ 
less East Indian princess Kokosneezix, has 
it been off for one instant, and-” 

“ Aw, go sit on a tack! ” said Don, a little 
irritated. “ What about the blamed old 
thing, anyhow ? ” 

“ Well, honest Injun, Don,” Pat said, 
laughingly, “ that ring was given me by the 
Pater, when I was thirteen years old, and 
it’s the nicest ring you ’most ever saw. That’s 
the truth. ’Pon honor, it is.” 

“ What’s the truth, you two youthful mag¬ 
pies ? ” called Archie, in a sleepy voice, and 
at its sound Billy gave a whoop and ran aft 
and, jumping astride the young man’s broad 
chest, began to pummel him, emitting ecstatic 
squeals, for at least once a day he and his 
tutor had what he called “ a rough-house,” 
and he greatly enjoyed it. 

The rest of the afternoon passed rather 
slowly, for Pat, possibly for fear of encoun- 



104 


EIGHT BELLS 


tering Ezabelita and her sea-gazing habits, 
positively refused to climb the Moro with 
Don, as they had first planned. After din¬ 
ner, however, as they all sat on deck, he con¬ 
ceived a brilliant idea, again doubtless trace¬ 
able to the gazing of La Foula’s romantic 
grand-daughter upon the boys of the 
“ Sapalo ”: 

“ I say, Mr. Archie,” he said, “ let’s row 
over to Ancon cove about ten o’clock, and 
take a moonlight swim. It’ll be rippin’ over 
there, and—and I don’t like bathin’ over 
here so much,” with a blush. 

“ Good idea, Pat,” the tutor agreed, “ but 
we’ll get some sail on her, and go over in the 
sloop, if the Captain is willing.” 

“Oh, quit kiddin’, Mr. Archie!” Don 
smiled. “ Sure we’ll go.” 

“But what about me?” Billy queried. 
“ That’s awful late, ain’t it? ” 

“ Yes,” Archie admitted thoughtfully, “ it 
is. Let me see. I tell you what! You splash 
around till you get tired, and then I’ll get on 
board with you and keep you company while 
you go to sleep.” 


“YON RISING MOON ” 


105 


“ We’ll take turns keeping him company/’ 
Pat said, “ and if any bugaboo so much as 
shows his nose at the port hole, I’ll use some 
of our firearms on him—they don’t seem to 
be of much use for anything else.” 

By half-past seven the “ Sapalo ” had been 
gotten under way, and after a series of most 
elaborately wearisome tacks, she dropped 
anchor off the cove. 

The moon sent a long shimmer of silver 
pathway over the ripples, and softened 
everything, even the grim, jagged pieces of 
rock that lay along the bottom of Ancon. As 
the four boys rowed shoreward, they noticed 
how its pale light lay, like a mantle of silver 
tissue, over the bare, crushed ribs of an old 
wreck that had found a resting place high 
up on the beach. Looking seaward, the white 
hull of the “ Sapalo ” danced easily on the 
water with the grace of a gull, her slender 
mast showing like a slim shaft of pale gold. 

“ Yay, Billikin! ” called Pat, as he stripped 
off and swam up to the small boy, 

“ ‘ I would see the monstrous shark ’— 
Gee-runch-up! 


to6 EIGHT BELLS 

‘ I would hear the dog-fish bark ’— 
Bow-wow!” 

Billy laughed and then disappeared under 
the water suddenly, reaching up a thin arm 
and ducking the Bishop’s son. 

“ Pat,” Archie called, as he swam toward 
the two boys, “ you’re crazier than ever—but 
for all that you deserve a vote of thanks for 
suggesting this swim. This beats splashing 
off Moro all hollow. Come ahead! the Com¬ 
modore and I’ll have a water battle against 
you and Don. Are you on? ” 

“ Never say die! ” Pat flung back cheer¬ 
fully. “ Come on here, Don, and help me 
lick these two! * England expects every man 
to do her duty,’ you know.” 

After the battle, in which the big tutor 
and Billy came out victors, they all swam 
in shore and lay on the sand for a while, and 
then went in again. 

“ I wonder what time it is? ” said Archie. 
“ It’s getting late, for the moon’s going 
down; and I can see the top star of the 
Southern Cross just peeping over the top of 
Ancon.” Then, to Billy, he added: “ Tired, 
old fellow? ” 


“ YON RISING MOON ” 


107 


“ Y-yes, sir! ” Billy answered, drowsily. 

“ Well, ril take you over to the boat. Come 
ahead.” 

“Let's swim over, will you?” Billy 
begged. 

“ Sure—just whatever my Commodore 
wants. Rest your hand on my shoulder, and 
I’ll tow you over,” and with the boy's sun- 
browned paw resting on his smooth shoulder, 
Archie struck out. 

Don and Pat continued to frolic for a 
while in the water, till finally a bellow from 
the sloop attracted their attention. 

“ Say, you two! ” came Archie's voice. 
“ Do you know it's getting late? Seven bells 
just struck as I came on board.” 

“ Does that mean for us to come on 
board? ” Pat bawled back. “ I don't care if 
I do! Pm awfully tired. I'll swim over. 
Come ahead, Don.” 

“ Not just this minute, Patsie,” Don 
pleaded. “ Just five minutes more fun.” 

Pat swam off alone, and as he pulled him¬ 
self out of the water and on deck, he said to 
Archie : 


io8 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ The Captain won’t come. Tell you what. 
I’ll stay with our Commodore if you want 
to join him in a final splash.” 

“You won’t mind?” Archie hesitated. 
“ Well, then, I’ll just dive in and swim 
around with Don for a while longer. So 
long! ” and over the side he went. 


CHAPTER XII 


EIGHT BELLS 

" Last night the Queen had four Marys, 

To-night she'll hae but three — 

There was Mary Seaton, and Mary Beaton, 

And Alary Carmaechel, and me." 

( —Old Ballad, from Oxford Book of 
English Verse.) 

“I flung me round him, 

I drew him under, 

1 clung, I bound him, 

My own white wonder.” 

( —Rodin Noel.) 

After Archie had rejoined Don, who met 
him about fifty yards from shore, and they 
had splashed about in the cool water for a 
little while, they once more swam to shallow 
water and waded in to where the little white 
gig, the “ Kitten,” was beached. 

“ Listen! ” said Don, as he threw himself 
down by the tutor’s side. 

Softly from out of the night came the 
sound of oars, and the voices of men singing. 
It was a riotous sea song, but the distance 


109 


IIO 


EIGHT BELLS 


added charm to it. Now and then a drunken 
laugh was audible. 

“ Some of those half-drunken Spanish 
riffraff, I suppose! ” said Archie, “ and yet, 
somehow or other, it all blends in, doesn’t 
it?” 

“ Yes,” Don whispered, “it sounds as if 
they were in that choppy little channel right 
south of Ancon, between Taboga and 
Uriva.” 

“ Then I think we’d just as well row over 
to the ‘ Sapalo,’ Don. Listen! ” 

The song came clearer, the voices, some 
hoarse and rough, some sweet, but the whole 
effect one of the most wanton debauchery: 

“ Oh, our Captain was a Devil, 

And our ship one bloody Hell— 

Heave lads, heave her up, as all around 
the capstan go! ” 

The next moment two pangas and a cayuca 
came out of the dark shadows of the point, 
and made rapidly for the little sloop. 

“ Quick, Don! ” cried Archie, as he seized 
the stern of the gig in his hands. “ Take the 
other side of her and push off! Oh, God! 
why didn’t I stay on board ? ” 


EIGHT BELLS 


hi 


With Don grabbing hold of the other side 
of the stern, they pushed the “ Kitten ” into 
the water, and jumped aboard. Archie took 
the oars, and the Midshipman sat in the stern 
sheets. They had only gone a few yards 
when the sharp crack of a revolver was 
heard, followed by a shrill, blood-strangled 
sob. 

“ Row faster, Archie! ” called the boy in 
the stern sheets quietly, and then: “ Look! 
Oh, my God, man, look! ” 

The tutor, turning his head, looked, and 
what he saw made his face ghastly. Over 
the side of the “ Sapalo ” a crowd of men 
had clambered, and were breaking in the 
closed hatch. Half way submerged in the 
sea, half sprawling over the gunwale, was 
the body of a man, evidently dead. Suddenly 
the hatch was lifted from below, and again 
came the sharp report of a pistol, to be fol¬ 
lowed by another screech of pain, and a 
moment later the stocky form of the British 
boy was seen to make a dart for the deck, 
Billy, looking small and still sleep tousled in 
his pajamas, close to him, Pat’s left arm 
around him. As they gained the deck, the 


112 


EIGHT BELLS 


boy fired two more shots and then began 
backing for the masthead. 

“ I can keep ’em here for a little while, 
Commodore,” he said. “ Run for the mast 
and climb it. Don’t you be scared! See how 
they are all crowded, there in the stern? 
I’ve got ’em covered. What’s that? Think 
you ought to stay with me? Oh, thanks aw¬ 
fully, but indeed you mustn’t, Bill. I’ll follow 
you just as soon as you’re up. Hurry! ” 

The small boy scuttled up the mast to the 
crosstrees, and Pat, still backing, followed 
him. It was impossible for him to keep his 
revolver covering the men and to climb at 
the same time, so, tossing the empty gun 
overboard, he went up the rigging like a cat. 

“ Don’t believe there’s a gun among ’em! ” 
he panted. “ Only cutlasses.” 

The cayuca had now come alongside, and 
the one man in it climbed to the deck. It was 
4 Mr. Mandarin ’! 

"You pigs!” he cried angrily to the 
huddled group. "You cowards! Afraid of 
a fifteen year old child! ” and he ran to the 
mast and, with a really uncanny agility for 
a man of his great fatness, began to climb 


EIGHT BELLS 113 

up, a long, thin bladed knife between his 
teeth. 

I’ll kill you if you come higher!” Pat 
said desperately, as he drew his other gun, 
which had been thrust in the cord of Billy's 
pajamas. 

“ Oh, Pat! ” the small boy screamed, from 
his place just above him. “ Look! ” 

The Bishop’s son turned just in time to 
see the thin Chinaman, Poy, aiming at him 
with a rifle he had found in the cabin, and 
so, pointing his revolver at the weasel faced 
creature, he fired, the bullet leaving an un¬ 
recognizable mass of crushed and bloody 
flesh in its wake. At the same instant, the 
boy felt a sudden, sharp pain in his side, and 
toppled over into the arms of the fat China¬ 
man, blood spurting from a gash he had 
received in his thigh, and Kum-Sing-Hong- 
Chong-Fat’s yellow fingers closed for a 
second in his firm flesh, and then, after a 
very calm survey of the wound, the old man 
smiles, quite gently, chokes the lad for a few 
seconds, nods his head, and flings him over¬ 
board, where, with a sound between a sob 
and a scream, the boy sinks, one brown arm 


EIGHT BELLS 


114 

clutching high above the water, at the air, 
even after the poor curly head has disap¬ 
peared, and on a finger of the tough young 
hand there flashes, for a second, the heavy, 
gold seal ring, which, noticing for the first 
time, the old man makes a skillful grab for, 
and wrings off the boy’s hand before he 
disappears. 

At the same instant, clear, bright, and 
beautiful, rises the Southern Cross over the 
mountain top where stands that other cross, 
so old and grim. The Chinaman, with a sud¬ 
den yell, rises to his feet, and snatching the 
pale, sobbing little Commodore in his arms, 
he tears off his pajamas, and lifting the 
slight, naked figure on his shoulder, roughly 
drags the boy’s arm high above his yellow 
head. On the armpit is also a cross! The 
ship’s clock sounds eight bells. 


CHAPTER XIII 


THE PRISONERS 

“ By the brand upon my shoulder, by the gall of 
clinging steel , 

By the welts the whips have left me , by the scars 
that never heal!" 

( —Rudyard Kipling.) 

As soon as the Midshipman and his friend 
had seen poor Pat come from the cabin, they 
had started with their utmost speed to row 
the gig toward the blood stained sloop. 
Archie, putting all his strength into his oar 
strokes, sent the “Kitten” skimming over the 
water, while Don, quiet and white, held her 
close on her course. When they were about 
a hundred yards from ‘the Sapalo,’ there 
came the sharp, snapping “ whit ” of a rifle, 
followed by the ‘ zip ’ of a bullet, as it passed 
over their bows, and flattened itself against 
the rocky wall, on the south side of the cove. 

“Slow up, Archie!” Don cautioned, and 
then added in a husky voice: “ They’ve killed 
Pat, I guess; don’t let ’em kill you.” 

115 


n6 EIGHT BELLS 

“ What difference will it make?” the man 
asked bitterly. “ I was in charge of you 
boys, and now—” 

“ Yes,” Don spoke crisply, “ that’s so; but 
don’t forget that you’re still in charge of us 
—and there’s our Commodore. Ah!” 

It was not an ordinary exclamation, but 
something between surprise and intense pain. 
Now at last Archie stopped his rowing: 

“What’s the matter, Don?” he asked 
quickly. 

Don, his body still glistening from the sea 
bath, had clapped his hand to his white shoul¬ 
der, and through his fingers oozed dark 
drops of blood. 

“ They got me! In the shoulder!” he said 
weakly. “But row man, row!” and then, 
with a sob, “ But oh, dear God! What are 
we to do ? ” 

Coming toward them from both sides, 
were the two pangas, closing in rapidly. In 
each were four men, two rowing, and twG 
armed with machetes. As they drew closer, 
Archie stood up, balancing himself easily 
with the firm set of his bare feet. Never had 
the low sinking, tropic moon looked on a 



THE PRISONERS 


ii? 

more spirited sight than now, as he stood* 
stalwart and menacing, a heavy oar in his 
hand, the perfection of his athletic, wonder¬ 
fully muscled body, a model of clean, young 
manhood; on his usually cheerful, good-look¬ 
ing face the greyish white hue of despera¬ 
tion ; while the frown between his eyebrows, 
and the burning anger and hate in his blue 
eyes, made him appear like some avenging 
angel. Just as one of the pangas drew along 
side, he struck with all his force, crushing in 
the head of the sailor in the bow as easily as 
if it had been an eggshell. As he raised the 
oar for another blow the heavy blade of a 
machete struck him a glancing blow across 
his right breast, and a spurt of blood ran 
down his body. At the same instant he felt a 
sudden jar as the other panga bore down and 
rammed them, crushing ‘ the Kitten’s 9 sides, 
and striking him on both bare legs, throwing 
him on his face, his head in Don’s lap, and, 
as the little boat filled and sank, he lost con 
sciousness. 

He was aroused a little while later by the 
cranking of a light chain and, after what 
seemed to him ages, he became conscious of a 


n8 


EIGHT BELLS 


pain in his breast and both legs. He was by 
no means the type of young fellow to cry out 
from physical suffering, but he was still 
somewhat stunned and so the pain, added to 
the choking, oppressive heat, and a feeling of 
distressing thirst, made him moan. 

“ Bad as all that, is it, old man? ” came 
Don’s pleasant voice out of the shadows. 

“ Did I grunt, Captain?” Archie asked. 
“ I didn’t mean to. I’ve—I’ve been asleep, or 
something. Where are we ? And how long 
have we been here ?” 

“Sh-sh!” the Middie whispered. “Talk 
low, or you’ll wake our Commodore. We’re 
on board the Sapalo, in what we used to call 
the fo’castle, up forward, you know. Don’t 
you recognize that small, cadet lantern, 
swinging by the companion? As to where 
we are, I can’t tell you exactly, because—” 
here his voice began to shake a little, and a 
hot flush of shame came to his face. “ After 
we’d headed about half a mile toward Ta- 
bogilla, and had gone about, just filling on 
our new tack to make the channel between 
Taboga and Uriva, they began to—to—Oh, 
Well! they gave me a licking—and the whip 


THE PRISONERS 


119 

was—was just like the one La Preciosa used 
on poor Hermosita!” he added with a wry, 
little smile. 

“ The devil!” cried Archie, and the next 
moment he remembered Don’s caution about 
talking softly, but it was too late, for a child¬ 
ish voice spoke close to his side. It was the 
Commodore, but oh! such a white, sad faced, 
little Commodore! so different from the mis¬ 
chievous small boy of that morning! 

“ Oh, I say, Mr. Archie!” he said, and then 
laying his head on his tutor’s lap, he burst 
out crying: “ I ain’t been asleep!” he sobbed. 
“ But I tried, ’cause Don said you’d like me 
to. He’s been no end good to me, Don has, 
and oh! they—they wouldn’t let me go to 
him when they threw him on board, and he 
was all bloody. An’ one of ’em kicked you—• 
an’ Don hit him—an’ then—they licked him 


Archie drew the small boy close to him, 
and the sobbing finally became less heart 
breaking. Brushing the stiff, yellow hair 
from the boy’s damp forehead, he looked 
down at him tenderly: 




120 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Remember last year, when you were so 
sick, Billy-boy ?” he said, “ And you wouldn’t 
go to sleep until I’d sing to you? My, what 
a bad boy you were ! Acted like you were 
live! Let’s pretend we’re home now. 
There’s the brigade of tin soldiers over on 
the table—close your eyes and you’ll see ’em 
—and there’s Simkins—isn’t he a funny, old 
Teddy-bear?—he’s already asleep, like his 
little master ought to be! And I say, Com¬ 
modore, if it wasn’t so dark I bet you could 
see that new tennis racquet I got you; and 
the cricket bat, and the snowshoes, and the 

skiis, and all—yes, and there’s-” 

“ But you’re not singin,’ ” the sleepy small 
boy protested. “You said you’d sing!” 

“ Sing what? Solvig’s song? Like I did 
last—like I always do, I mean ? ” and the 
low voice began to croon softly: 

Sleep, thou darling boy of mine, 

I will cradle thee, I will watch thee. 

The boy is lying on his mother’s heart 
They two have been playing all the life 
day long. 





THE PRISONERS 121 

The boy has been resting in his mother's 
arms, 

All the life day long—God’s blessing on 
my joy! ’ ” 

The water lapped the sides of the sloop 
softly, and the warm breath of the 
night enfolded all the small boy’s unhap¬ 
piness in a tender drowsiness. He was on 
the cricket field at Eton, fielding for Pat, and 
the rooks were cawing among the elms in the 
4 little yard,’ and the ‘ Head ’ was crossing 
the close, his gown gathered about him as 
he always did, and, from the Thames came 
the boyish voices of the fellows in their 
sculls, training for the race with Harrow, 
and singing their “ Jolly Boating Weather,” 
or no, it wasn’t that, either, it was—and the 
low voice continued: 

“ ‘ Sleep, thou darling boy of mine, 

I will cradle thee, I will watch thee.’ ” 



CHAPTER XIV 
THE PIRATE BOY. 


" Swifter, and yet more swift. 

Till the heart with a mighty lift 
Makes the lungs laugh, the throat cry — 

‘ Oh, bird see, see bird, 1 fly." 

f( Is this, is this your joyf 
Oh bird, then I, though a boy. 

For a golden moment share 
Your feathery life in air’" 

( —Henry Charles Beeching.) 

After the little boy had gone to sleep, 
Archie, looking over toward Don, saw, with 
a mixture of gratification and loneliness, that 
the Middie had curled himself up and was 
also sleeping, his hurt shoulder bound in a 
bandage. Archie did not know that the boy 
had stayed awake all the time that he had 
been unconscious, watching him like a young¬ 
er brother, and also comforting Billy. As 
he sat watching the two sleepers, the Middie 
looking almost as childish now as the young¬ 
er lad, in the care-forgetting, heart-comfort¬ 
ing sleep of boyhood, a bright light appeared 

122 


THE PIRATE BOY 


123 


at the head of the companion, and, with the 
firm, though noiseless tread peculiar to him, 
Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat came into the 
fo’castle, an electric flashlight in one hand. 

“ The little boy sleeping" he asked in his 
soft voice, looking at the small body that 
Archie held in his arms. He spoke quite 
placidly, as if nothing had happened, and the 
tutor, controlling his desire to try to kill him, 
answered in the same way : 

“ Yes, he's asleep; poor, little chap." 

“ And the big boy ?" pointing at Don. 

“ Asleep also." 

“ The best thing for both of them, particu¬ 
larly as you and I are now more or less free 
to talk. In the first place, I want to assure 
you that, so far as possible, I do not wish to 
hurt any of you—mind, I say so far as possi¬ 
ble. Of course, if there is any show of resist¬ 
ance, like that half-grown boy displayed a 
while ago, you will get the same thing— 
a beating, and if necessary, death, like the 
curly headed boy. As to the little Prince, 
he is a handsome little fellow, and more 
husky than I thought him, and in about a 
year—how old is he? " 


124 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Ten,” Archie answered in a low voice, 
holding the small, quiet body close to him as 
he looked down sadly at the softly smiling 
young face, with its few cheerful freckles. 

“ As I thought. Well, in about a year, 
maybe two, I will send him to a friend of 
mine who has the bad taste to live in Japan, 
near Yokahama.” 

“You’ll do what?” the young fellow 
cried, his voice for once sounding strangely 
scared. “ I thought you intended holding 
him for ransom—you’d get a lot you know, 
up to almost half of what his grandfather 
has. Think, man!” 

“ You Occidentals are all alike! You talk 
in millions, but you think in cents. I don’t 
want ‘ almost half ’ of the old man’s money; 
I want all of it, down to the last ‘ yen.’ And 
my friend wants just such a*boy, and that 
will mean more money, don’t you see? ” and 
the fat old fellow chuckled pleasantly. “ You 
and I will spend a few years together in each 
other’s company,” he continued blandly, 
“ which can be made quite pleasant, (for you 
are, if you will pardon me, a good looking 
young fellow, who must be entertaining, even 


THE PIRATE BOY 


125 


though it be in a rather boyish way), or 
very nasty, if you sulk, or try anything ab¬ 
surd, for I can be quite disagreeable when 
I have to be—your friend’s naked back there 
is a good enough illustration, I dare say. By 
the way, he’s a Midshipman, or something 
like that ? ” 

“ He’s a second classman at the United 
States Naval Academy.” 

“ Well and good! I saw some white uni¬ 
forms in the aft cabin that must have been 
his, they were too small for that big body 
of yours. Well, after about a month, I’ll 
send him back to the States, on promise to 
tell nothing of what has happened. He is to 
say that the “ Sapalo ”—a very nice, little 
ship, by the way, but badly crowded, just 
now, with the Spanish swine!—was wrecked, 
and all were drowned except himself. If he 
ever tells a different tale, I will know of it, 
depend on that, and I will take it out on the 
little boy—and a lad of ten, even though he 
is rather a solid little husky, bears pain so 
badly! Everything hurts him more than it 
would you or I. You can explain all this to 
the boys; you will do it better than I—and be 


126 


EIGHT BELLS 


sure to let the Midshipman know that if he 
tells, you will see the small boy when he is 
crucified. These Spanish fools would doubt¬ 
less prefer an ‘ auto da f e,’ but I do not; they 
are so much more messy. Good morning! 
Do try to rest a little, my dear sir. Believe 
me, you really need it. I hope I bound up 
your wound satisfactorily? It isn’t at all 
deep, I am glad to say.” And he started to 
ascend the companion. Half way up he 
paused, and, turning, said quite pleasantly: 
“ It is just daybreak. If you find you cannot 
rest down here, suppose you come on deck 
when the little Prince wakes. It is very 
rough, and we’ve made poor headway. You’ll 
help us, I’m sure,” with a gracious smile, and 
he disappeared. 

After the Chinaman had gone, Archie, for 
the first time since he had been a boy, bent 
his curly, yellow head on his arm and began 
to cry, the deep sobs of a heartbroken young 
fellow, desperate and frightened for the 
safety of someone he loves better than him¬ 
self, and whom he feels he is powerless to 
assist. When the two boys woke, he told 
them they could all go on deck, and so, 


THE PIRATE BOY 


127 

dressed in some of their own clothes that the 
Chinaman had sent forward, they went up. 
No one noticed them at first, except Kum- 
Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat, who apparently saw 
everything, and who smiled at them genially 
and waved one plump hand, after which he 
continued to attend to the business before 
him. 

While he had been below talking to Archie, 
one of the Spanish sailors had broached a 
small barrel of rum, three of which had 
somehow been loaded on board, and from the 
free libations in which a bit of bacchanalian 
sportiveness resulted, terminated in chaos. 
Not that the whole crew was drunk—though 
Archie wished most devoutly that they were 
—but those who were sober resented the in¬ 
toxication of their more fortunate comrades, 
with the result that a very bedlam had broken 
loose, and the seaman at the wheel, though 
he stuck to his duty, laughed gleefully, and 
threw out jibes with great gusto. The wind 
had risen to a gale, and the “ Sapalo ” was 
running before it under a heavy press of 
canvass, her decks aslant until the port gun¬ 
wale was almost under water. A mile or so 


128 


EIGHT BELLS 


to starboard the grey sea was being lashed 
to smoothness by sheets of tropic rain, but 
the ocean heaved in long, gigantic swells 
about the white hull of the sloop. The helms¬ 
man, a lad of fourteen or fifteen, his sturdy 
legs bared half way to his thighs, stood, feet 
wide spread, the salty wind blowing in his 
handsome, saucy face. His high rolled 
trousers were of dirty khaki, cut sailor 
fashion, and he had on an equally dirty, Can¬ 
ton crepe undershirt, thrown open so that 
the smooth, tanned skin of his breast showed 
clean in contrast. His forearms were also 
sun-browned, but his upper arms and shoul¬ 
ders, like his chest, were a much paler tan, 
showing him to be one of those youngsters 
who are naturally thick skinned. His stockily 
built body somehow suggested the poor, 
bright faced son of the Lord Bishop of the 
Bahamas, though he was shorter than Pat, 
but his face was totally different, except for 
the mischievous impishness that they pos¬ 
sessed in common. On the side of the well 
shaped young head, with its thatch of 
rumpled brown hair, was a red and white 
striped Neapolitan fisher's cap, its tassel 


THE PIRATE BOY 


129 


hanging rakishly over one ear, and the 
healthy, blossomy young face that it framed, 
with its queer, laughing grey eyes looking 
back at you squarely, the snubbed nose snif¬ 
fing the sea like an alert little watch dog, 
the wide, red lipped mouth parted over the 
white teeth in a smile of boyish joyousness, 
was good to see. Round his rather heavy 
waist was a sash of crimson jusi cloth, 
through which was stuck a heavy bladed, 
bone handled machete. 

The hubbub on board increased until the 
sailor who had first broached the rum barrel 
straddled it and, a knife in each hand, dared 
the Chinaman to come on. A moment later 
the knives were sent spinning overboard, and 
seizing the drunk creature around the waist, 
the old Asiatic sent him after them, and the 
rum barrel after all three. Then he turned 
to the others: 

“ See, my children/’ he said blandly, 
“ there goes your shipmate, Jose ! My eyes 
are not so good as they used to be, I am an 
old man, you know, but if I’m not mistaken, 
I see a school of sharks. Since they are 
Spanish sharks, if they find the rum barrel 


130 


EIGHT BELLS 


first, they will doubtless get very drunk; but 
if they find Jose first, they will eat, and drink 
afterwards.” Then, his voice changing to a 
harsh command: “ Stand by to take in sail, 
fools! Tom,” to the lad at the wheel, “ put 
her hard down. That’s it. There’s the island. 
It’s time we made it, too. This storm is bad. 
Now, sing Boyito! We’ve made a good catch, 
and we’re almost in harbor,” and Tom began 
to sing in a powerful mezzo-soprano, the 
others joining in, till the roaring of the song 
and the howling of the wind, added to the 
angry booming waves on the coast they were 
approaching, seemed like some fantastic 
dream. Tom’s voice seemed strangely out of 
place, more like a mischievous young choris¬ 
ter-boy, leading a chorus of buccaneers in 
an amateur comic opera, than one of a band 
of marauders: 

“ Oh, our Captain was a Devil, 

And our ship one bloody Hell— 
Heave lads, heave her up, as all around 
the capstan go. 


THE PIRATE BOY 

Sing a deep sea chantey, 

As did Blackbeard and Cervante, 
Work aboard the Hell in life, we’ll 
also work in Hell below! ” 


131 


CHAPTER XV 

“ SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT ” 


“ But oft, from the Indian hunter s camp , 

This lover and maid so true 
Are seen at the hour of midnight da?np 
To cross the Lake by a firefly's lamp 
And paddle their white canoe!" 

( —Sir Thomas Moore.) 

And what of Pat Dean, son of the Lord 
Bishop of the Bahamas? 

Well, with the din and the horror of the 
fight at the cove in his ears, and the warm 
gush of blood from his thigh, he had merci¬ 
fully lost consciousness, and the helpless 
clutchings of his poor hand as he sank had 
been quite involuntary, just as the wise old 
Chinaman had figured, for that placid old 
gentleman was far too thorough in his meth¬ 
ods to have left him unless quite sure of his 
drowning. If the boy’s body was never 
found, so much the better; and if it was 
washed ashore, and found by some of the 
few Americans who, at that time, were be¬ 
ginning to make short trips from the main- 


132 


SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 133 

land to stay at the old French sanitarium, 
and who sometimes used the cove for swim¬ 
ming, why no harm would be done, for the 
gash was, as you know, in Pat’s thigh, and 
though deep, gave no hint of foul play, as 
would have been the case had the lad been 
stabbed in some vital organ. Still, as Kum- 
Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat shrewdly figured, the 
shock the boy had undergone, added to the 
tremendous amount of blood he would lose, 
would render him far too weak to let him 
swim, husky though he was, so that drown 
he most certainly would. Altogether, since 
the old fellow was, at the moment when he 
had choked Pat and flung him overboard, 
quite busy dealing with the struggling little 
Commodore, seeing to the disposal of Archie 
and the Midshipman, and holding his riotous 
crew in check, he felt that he had followed 
the wisest course where the Bishop’s son was 
concerned. His one regret was that Pat’s 
heavy gold ring was now on his own finger, 
for he felt that it might have been better if 
the youngster’s body was found with the ring- 
still on his hand. 


134 


EIGHT BELLS 


The Chinaman’s calculations were really 
almost perfect in this instance, but not quite, 
and, as is so often the case, a very tiny thing 
changed them, nothing more nor less than 
a small, tin box, containing a square bit of 
brownish stuff, with a piece bitten out, and 
showing the imprint of some boyish teeth in 
it, Master Pat’s teeth, be it added; a little, 
partly eaten cake of cabanga! 

When the assault on the sloop took place, 
Pat had been just ready to get into his pa¬ 
jamas, and had only had time to slip his legs 
into a pair of duck pants, and in the pocket 
of these pants was his tin box of cabanga. 
So, naked to his waist, and barefooted, he 
had put up his fight to save Billy, and had, 
as we know, been stabbed and choked for his 
pains, and tossed overboard. 

Now it had just happened that the fair 
Ezabelita was, as usual, indulging in her 
rather unmaidenly habit of gazing from the 
top of Moro when the “ wardroom mess” 
set sail for Ancon cove. Feeling the greatest 
indignation at what she deemed to be a base 
desertion on the part of the dark skinned, 
fluffy headed Bishop’s son—not a rap cared 


SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 135 

this fair one for the other three—she decided 
to give chase, late though it was, and inevi¬ 
table as were seen to be the whacks from the 
Preciosa on her tardy return. To go to the 
cove by foot would mean a trip through the 
village, which was not to be thought of, but 
this doughty Amazon could handle a dug-out 
as well as the next one, and, not being any 
too nice as to the questions of ownership, 
she proceeded, quite leisurely, down the 
Moro and over to the house of the Agent of 
the Pacific Steam Navigation Company, a 
summer cottage, built on high, concrete piles, 
and unoccupied at present. Under this house 
she found, just as she knew she would, a 
small native cayuca, and lifting it above her 
glossy head, she proceeded to carry it to the 
quay, launch it, board it, and so merrily 
away, with great coolness. 

Arrived at the cove, she did not at once 
enter it, but watched the white figures on the 
far off beach from its mouth, cursing Pat in 
three languages, Spanish, English and In¬ 
dian, as a faithless lover—poor curly-head, 
such an idea would have made him pink for 
a week!—and then, lying down in the bottom 


136 


EIGHT BELLS 


of her tiny craft, Indian fashion, she let the 
current sweep her far out, past Uriva, just 
using her paddle enough to pass that island 
on the outside, and so missing the pangas as 
they pulled through the channel between it 
and Taboga. She heard the singing of the 
sailors, however, and called down the most 
horrid anathemas on their heads for the 
racket they made. They quite distracted her 
pleasing, sentimental thoughts! Sweet girl! 
She rather gloated over the possession of this 
handsome boy lover—she must possess him, 
body and soul, for he had taken her cabanga 
—and his very faithlessness added a gloomy 
charm. She even sang to the moon, and 
when that began to disappear behind Taboga, 
she sang to the Southern Cross. She sang a 
very passionate ditty, which would have 
made Pat most uncomfortable could he have 
heard, or understood it, which, since he was 
far off, and it was in Spanish, he couldn't 
have, luckily for him, wholesome lad! The 
ballad was most mournful, and was to the 
effect that “ God had placed between us 
both (she and Pat, in spite of the fact that 
only twenty minutes before she had seen that 


SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 137 

youthful curly-head in bathing!) so much 
land and so much sea,” and ended with the 
query that what particular difference did it 
make anyway, even if God had placed “ be¬ 
tween us both, so much land and so much 
sea ”? Oh, it was quite heartrending! Very 
much so indeed. 

Well, Ezabelita was a good bit off shore 
by the time the fight on the “ Sapalo ” com¬ 
menced, but the pistol shots she heard quite 
plainly, and, having rather vivid recollec¬ 
tions of a Fourth of July celebration she had 
witnessed the year before, over in Panama, 
and which she considered very droll, and 
being quite hazy as to her dates, she decided 
that such must again be the case with the 
Americans on the sloop, and further, that, 
Pat or no Pat, if there was any fun going 
forward, she wasn’t the girl to miss it, 
whereupon she sat up, dug her paddle into 
the water, and sent the cayuca skimming 
over the ocean at a great rate. 

Arrived at the mouth of the cove, she de¬ 
cided, like the Greek chorus at the murder 
of Agamemnon, that “ all was not well,” and 
so swung her dug-out into the shadow of the 


EIGHT BELLS 


138 

rocky wall of the cove, looking up just in time 
to see her beloved, dark skinned youngster 
tumbled into the water. 

The noise on board the “ Sapalo ” was 
excessive, and so she very easily paddled to 
within thirty yards of it without being heard, 
and, since the moon was now hidden, no one 
saw her. Luckily for Pat, just as she stopped 
paddling, and, feeling that her boy of dreams 
had disappeared for good, had begun to cry, 
he at that moment came to the surface, 
whereupon Ezabelita grabbed those well be¬ 
loved brown locks very firmly and yanked the 
youngster on board, at the imminent risk of 
upsetting the cayuca. In the meantime the 
“ Sapalo ” had been got under way. 

Little Ezabelita cared not a jot for that, 
but she had troubles of her own, poor soul! 
She had her boy, certainly, scantily clad 
though he was, but she did not dare to take 
him home with her to the house on the Plaza 
del Corpus Christi. The very idea of facing 
her aged grandmother with this half stripped 
youngster, pretty though he was, made her 
shiver. No, that was out of the question, 
so, while she bound up the gash in his leg 


SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 139 

quite skillfully, she decided to paddle over to 
a tiny, rocky island of which she knew, 
toward Otoki, and which held no saintly 
Preciosas, nor anybody else for the matter 
of that. Then she hesitated, scowled, and 
actually shook her fist at Pat's pale face. 
Why should she bother about this faithless 
lover? He was a lover, she had quite de¬ 
cided that, and he was certainly faithless, or 
he would have stayed at the Moro. While she 
was debating as to what to do about this, and 
was still bandaging the boy's thigh, her hand 
struck against something in his pocket, be¬ 
tween it and his skin. It was something hard. 
The little incident of the cayuca has already 
shown us Ezabelita's views on property 
rights, so you won't be surprised when I tell 
you she very promptly withdrew her fair 
hand from its Red Cross work, and thrust it 
into Pat's pocket, and brought out the small 
tin box. After indulging in a few agreeable 
thrills as to the number of jewels it con¬ 
tained (it was an old tobacco box of Archie's, 
by the way), she finally opened it, and found 
her piece of cabanga, with the imprint of 
boyish teeth in it. She at once, for hers was 


140 


EIGHT BELLS 


a practical soul, took two fingers, and opened 
Pat's lips with them, over his closed teeth. 
How pretty they looked! So even, and 
strong, and white! She was in an ecstasy! 
Still, she had one more task, so, with a fast 
beating heart, this female “ doubting 
Thomas ” proceeded to place the bitten edge 
of the cabanga against Pat's teeth. It fitted 
their surface perfectly, whereupon this sim¬ 
ple creature went wild and—I think she 
kissed Pat, though he swears she didn't. At 
all events she hugged him, and very nearly 
upset the cayuca, which last act recalled her 
to the stern realities of life, so, with the 
boy's brown head in her lap, she once more 
dug her paddle into the Pacific and did not 
stop until she had reached her rocky island, 
when, having yanked Pat to a place of safety, 
with his bare feet resting in the water, the 
artless soul proceeded to give the cayuca a 
kick that sent it carrocoling out in the ocean, 
for of one thing Ezabelita was certain: her 
beautiful, dark skinned little boy should not 
get away again. 

There was bread fruit on the island, and 
bananas, and pineapples, and several goats, 


SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 141 

ancient relics of Grandmama’s herd, and 
there was quite a nice spring of water, too, 
if you didn’t mind the smell, and Ezabelita 
didn’t, not in the least. 

Of their life there little is known, for Pat 
gets cross if you mention it, and Ezabelita 
flies into a rage at the least hint of it. Dear 
child! I am afraid it was a disappointment, 
for it seems to have lacked romance. All I 
do know about it is this: that while poor Pat 
lay, half dead, things went along splendidly. 
He was a nice boy, was Pat, and he was very 
grateful to Ezabelita for rescuing him, and 
for taking care of him. He did wish she 
wouldn’t make such a fuss over him; it made 
him feel so silly, but then, he guessed, girls 
’most always did make a fuss! And she 
really did take first rate care of him, and so, 
in a week or two, he was almost as fit as 
ever. Then the trouble began. 

Pat, as soon as he became well enough, 
missed his precious gold ring, the one his 
“ Pater ” had given him. Of course he did 
not know that the old Chinaman had torn it 
off his hand, after choking him and throwing 
him overboard, but he did know that it was 


142 


EIGHT BELLS 


gone. Remember he had never seen Kum- 
Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat until the night of the 
fight at the cove, for neither he nor Don had 
gone into “ La Mano del Dios ” with Archie 
and the Commodore the time they bought the 
two eggs, so he never once associated his ter¬ 
rible assailant with anybody at Taboga. He 
told his troubles, like a young idiot, to 
Ezabelita, and she was most sympathetic. 
Oh, yes, she remembered the ring very well; 
she had noticed it the time she gave him his 
cabanga. Doubtless it had dropped off his 
finger in Ancon cove, and some day, so she 
said, she would dive for it, and scramble all 
over the cove till she got it. At present, how¬ 
ever, he was not well enough to be left alone. 
From this Ezabelita decided that Pat liked 
jewelry as much as she did, and so, since he 
was still sick and weak, she had decked him 
out, quite regardless of expense, with a heavy 
“ cadena cliata ”—a beautiful piece of 
native chain work, in pure, hand beaten gold, 
—draping it around his unfortunate neck, 
and over his bare shoulders and chest as 
many times as it would go, and adding to it 
an even greater treasure, in her opinion, 


SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 143 

namely, a hideous rope of blue and green 
glass beads, made in Chicago, and fit for the 
finest five-and-ten-cent store in the land. 
This rope was short, and it nearly strangled 
the poor young husky to death in conse¬ 
quence, but his inconsistent Amazon wept so 
when he took it off that he let her use it as 
a pendant to the “ cadena chata,” where it 
rested, quite gorgeously, so Ezabelita 
thought, somewhere on his tough stomach. 

When he was well again, however, though 
he really did try very hard to be nice to her, 
out of gratitude, he refused to be draped 
any more, and got quite sulky about it, 
whereupon Ezabelita wept again, and Pat, in 
the wholesome, clumsy fashion that was a 
part of him with girls, begged her pardon, 
and tried to make up, and, when she con¬ 
tinued to howl most dismally, fit to make the 
very goats bleat (for she was terribly 
alarmed for fear the boy would stop trying 
to make up, and she was quite overjoyed at 
his clumsy gentleness), he said he had acted 
“ beastly.’’ 


144 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ But you are an angel! ” Ezabelita cried, 
beginning to smile. “ You are an angel—a 
big-boy angel, that is what you are! ” 

“ Not much, I ain’t!” Pat laughed, tre¬ 
mendously relieved that her wails had ceased, 
and still trying hard to be nice. “ I’m jolly 
mean, I know I am. You’ve been most aw¬ 
fully rippin’ to me.” 

“ Ah, now I know that you are an angel! ” 
the girl laughed, whereupon Master Pat 
backed away a little, though he still tried, in 
his own words, to be “ awfully jolly.” 

“ Rats! ” he said, attempting jocosity. “ If 
I was a boy angel, Miss Ezabelita ” (he 
never left off that “Miss”), “If I was a 
boy angel, I’d wear a robe, ’stead of duck 
pants, and have a golden crown, and bare 

footsies, and-” but as the fair one here 

glanced coquettishly at his bare feet, and 
began to giggle, he stopped, and got quite 
red. 

The greatest racket, however, was when 
Pat discovered what had become of the 
cayuca, their one means of escape to the 
mainland, and, incidentally, his one means of 
escape from Ezabelita. He was mad all over 



SHIPS TPIAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 145 


that time, so mad that he almost cried. He 
stormed—but to his horror, Ezabelita was 
not in the least upset by his anger. On the 
contrary, she greatly enjoyed it. Was quite 
enraptured, in fact, asking him if he was 
ready to beat her ?—for the island lads often 
beat their sweethearts before marrying 
them! That scared Pat pretty badly, so he 
became placative. 

“ But I say! ” he began in a different tone. 
“ This is awfully jolly, of course—I—I wish 
it could g-go on f-forever, living by the sea, 
an' being such pals, an'—an’ talkin’ to the 
goats, an’ all—b-but I’ve just got to get to 
Panama to help the others, you know. Just 
awful things may have happened to ’em. Just 
beastly! When’ll we get back to Taboga, do 
you think? I’ve just got to go, an’-” 

“ Ah, yes,” Ezabelita interrupted easily. 
“ It is true that we must at last return to 
Taboga, thou and I—to the house of my 
Grandmama, and,” with a significance that 
made poor Pat wriggle all over, “ to the little 
church of Corpus Christi. That is so, Senor 
Englishman.” 



146 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Gosh! ” from the boy, feeling so miser¬ 
ably shy that it was about all he could say. 

“ Ah, do not despair! ” Ezabelita cried 
with much graciousness, and much intense¬ 
ness. “ See? I am here! And I will follow 
thee always, always—with a heart palpitat¬ 
ing with love—and a machete ! See, my 
owlet? But there! We will not return to 
Grandmama at once—I don’t like the goats! 
No, we will remain here a while longer, and 
I will crown your pretty brown head with 
double hybiscus blossoms.” 

Then Pat lost his head: 

“ You ought to be ’shamed of yourself,” 
he blurted out, almost crying, “ Talkin’ like 
that to a boy! And you’re just a little girl, 
anyhow! Why, you ought to be playin’ with 
dolls!” 

“ I am! ” quite calmly, from Ezabelita. 

Pat blushed. 

“ Well,” he said, sulkily, “ I’m goin’ to get 
off this old island, somehow, if I have to 
swim for it! ” 

“ Tra-la-la-lye-o! ” hummed Ezabelita. “ I 
shouldn’t swim, if I were you! There are 
sharks, you know, and they might eat your 





SHIPS THAT PASS IN THE NIGHT 147 

pretty white pants—and you only possess the 
one pair! ” and Pat, hot all over, and terribly 
conscious of the eyes fixed laughingly on his 
white back and shoulders, ran away toward 
the top of the island, his brown face burning, 
and in his young ears Ezabelita’s voice, sing¬ 
ing with the most awful sentimentality: 

“ 4 Que importa, que nos divida, 

Tanta tierra, y tanto mar? 9 if 


CHAPTER XVI 


OF CATHEDRAL CLOISTERS, OF 
THE YANGTSZE-KIANG AND 
OF A PEIHO JUNK 

" 'till the wicked nurse confessed, 

And we worked the old Three Decker to the Islands 
of the Blest! ” 

( —Rudyard Kipling.) 

O I hae come from far away, 

From a warm land far away, 

A southern land across the sea. 

With sailor lads about the masts, 

Merry and canny and kind to me.” 

“ And I hae been to yon town, 

To try my luck in yon town—” 

( —William Bell Scott.) 

The island to which ‘ Mr. Mandarin ’ had 
taken his prisoners was very much on the 
order of Taboga, though the inhabitants, 
being more isolated, even outdid the simple 
folk of that island in their primitiveness. 
Also, the village was not more than half the 
size of Taboga, and was more squalid. 

Before the “ Sapalo ” had come to anchor, 
Archie, at the Chinaman’s instigation, had 


148 


OF CATHEDRAL CLOISTERS 149 


talked to the two boys about how they must 
behave, and then, taking Don aside, he had 
explained what plans had been made; how 
the Midshipman was to be sent home; how 
he was to be held a prisoner, and of what 
was to become of Billy. 

Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat was as good 
as his word about being kind to them, and he 
even suggested that Archie restart Billy in 
some of his lessons, with the idea of keeping 
his mind occupied with this regular bit of 
routine each morning, and by so doing, 

gradually to wean his thoughts from the hor- 

• / 

ror of Pat’s unknown fate. The young tutor 
acquiesced heartily in this plan, nor could he 
help being grateful to the old fellow for the 
innumerable things he did to make the child 
contented and happy. He did not keep any 
of the three friends on board, but had them 
stay at a small, lightly constructed bungalow, 
built by one of the officers of the old French 
Canal Company, which, set apart as it was 
from the village, with two big poinsettia 
trees shading its front, and an avenue of 
royal palms leading up to it, was quite an 
attractive place. 


i5o 


EIGHT BELLS 


About a week after they had landed, 
Archie, Don and Billy were all seated on the 
broad, cool veranda, Archie stretched out in 
a long, wicker morris chair, a tiny tabarette 
of black lacquer, inlaid with gold, at his 
elbow. On it were a tray and a smoking set 
of the same material. The green, Japanese 
straw awnings were only half unrolled, and 
the broad strip of woven grass matting with 
which the veranda was covered, was bor¬ 
dered with a narrow band of warm sun¬ 
beams, which danced on its soft, green sur¬ 
face, and over the feathery brilliancy of the 
poinsettia blossoms that were scattered on 
it in great splotches of vermillion. The 
young fellow in the morris chair had lost 
weight in the last seven days, due chiefly to 
the heavy troubles that were on him, but also 
from the constant effort he had to make to 
appear his natural, cheerful self. The two 
boys lounged on the oval mats, made of 
plaited straw, the little Commodore lying 
flat on his stomach, his chin resting on his 
fists, deep in “ The Wonderful Adventures 
of Nils.” It is to be doubted if even the 
learned board who conferred the Nobel Prize 


OF CATHEDRAL CLOISTERS 151 


on the author of this book admired Madam 
Lagerlof more intensely than did Billy. 

Don glanced over the wide stretch of green 
matting to a corner of the porch, where a 
wonderful Quayaquil hammock of yellow 
and red fibre, swung in the soft breeze that 
was blowing in from the deep, blue waters of 
the Pacific. 

“ If it wasn't that you were so much bigger 
than me," he said lazily, looking up at Archie, 
“ I'd have dumped you out of that hammock 
half an hour ago when you were taking your 
siesta. Never mind ! I'll do it manana” 

“ Great word, that manana, isn't it ? " 
Archie smiled. “ It's like our to-morrow— 
only it never comes," and he lit a cigar, and 
puffed in silence, a slight frown between his 
eyebrows. 

“ I say," cried Don, noting the frown, “ I 
—I haven't made you mad, have I? I sure 
didn't mean to. Honest! " 

“ Crazy in the head with the heat," the 
other grinned. “ Of course I'm not mad. I 
was only thinking of what would become of 
you, ‘ Mr. Midshipman Easy,' if you'd have 
‘ dumped me out,' as you call it. There'd 


EIGHT BELLS 


152 

have been one less Middie in the world, for 
one thing.” 

“ I almost wish there was! ” the boy said 
wearily, “ and I want to be home, Archie! 
Oh! Ed give my soul to be home! ” 

“ Shut up! ” the tutor cut in. “ For the 
Lord's sake, man, don’t let’s add homesick¬ 
ness to our other troubles! That’ll be the 
last straw! And besides, you’ll be going 
home in a month-” 

Don jumped to his feet, his hands clenched 
at his sides: 

“ What do you mean? ” he cried, his eyes 
full of angry tears. “ Do you think I’d leave 
our Commodore, and—and you? I know 
what the Chinaman said, but I’m not going. 
He can kill me first, but I won’t go.” 

The big tutor put one hand on the excited 
boy’s shoulder. 

“ Steady, old man! ” he said quietly. “ I 
know the stuff you’re made of. We’re 
brothers from now on, lad—remember that.” 

Don sat down on the mat again, and for a 
while they were both quiet, the boy looking 
out over the side of the porch toward a huge 
mango tree, the reddish gold fruit of which 



OF CATHEDRAL CLOISTERS 153 

was being gathered by some of the sailors 
and placed into a basket, to be carried into 
the bungalow. Archie looked through the 
wreathes of blue smoke from his cigar at the 
ocean and then, closer in shore, to the cove 
where the “ Sapalo ” rested quietly at 
anchor. The frown had returned. 

“ Good day, sir! ” said a voice behind him, 
and, glancing up, he recognized the hand¬ 
some pirate boy, Tom. 

He had a big, split-bottom basket full of 
mangoes on his shoulder, which he balanced 
in the crook of his left arm, while the other 
arm was hanging stiff at his side, the muscles 
tense under the weight of another basket, 
full of aguacates. Archie smiled up at him, 
and then, getting to his legs, he took the bas¬ 
ket of mangoes. 

“ Great Scot, youngster! ” he said, as he 
set it down. “ You’re husky, all right, but 
those two baskets are too heavy for you.” 

The boy grinned. 

“ That’s nothin’! ” he said, but he rubbed 
the muscles of first one bare arm and then 
the other, with rather a rueful shake of his 
head. 


154 


EIGHT BELLS 


Somehow or other, this pirate boy had 
taken a liking to the tutor, though he de¬ 
tested Don, and was selfconscious and ill at 
ease in Billy’s presence. Knowing this, the 
Midshipman had gotten up as the other boy 
came on the porch, and now, lifting the Com¬ 
modore to his shoulder, he walked over to 
the mango tree, where he and the child were 
soon joined by 4 Mr. Mandarin,’ who had 
an ivory elephant for the little chap. 

“ It’s awful hot! ” the sailor lad said, as 
he threw himself on a mat with a tired, little 
grunt. “ But it’s fun to come over here and 
talk to you. You’re great.” 

There was a shy adoration in this boyish 
compliment that pleased Archie and so, smil¬ 
ing back into the other’s grey eyes, he said: 

“ Well, I like you, too, Tom, for the very 
same reason you say you like me—you’re 
great! I wish we could chum together more, 
but it’s only possible when you come to see 
me—I can’t go on board the sloop, you 
know.” 

“ I know that, sir,” the boy answered, 
“ and it’s an awful nuisance. I don’t mean I 
mind coming to see you,” he added hastily, 




OF CATHEDRAL CLOISTERS 155 

“ but I never know whether I come too much. 
Do I?” 

“ You certainly do not,” the man said em¬ 
phatically. “But think, Boyito! Eve told 
you a lot about myself, and you’ve not even 
met me half way. I’ve told you about my 
life when I was a small boy in Louisville, of 
my boarding school days, up north, at 
Groton, or my ’varsity work at both the Uni¬ 
versity of Virginia and over at Oxford, on 
a Rhodes scholarship, but not one thing have 
you told me about yourself. That’s not just 
square, is it, mate? ” 

The boy fidgeted uneasily, and when he 
spoke, it was in a low, embarrassed voice: 

‘ It ain’t a bit interestin’, about me, I mean 
—only when you spoke about Louisville, it 
made me feel like talkin’ more. I dunno 
where I was born, mother never would tell 
me, but from the time I can remember good, 
till I was twelve, we lived in Kentucky, first 
at Lexington, where I worked as a stable 
boy, and then in Louisville, where I was an 
A. D. T. kid. It was lots of fun, bein’ an 
A. D. T. kid, ’cause I was on the night force, 
an’ I was goin’ ’round on my bicycle till four 


EIGHT BELLS 


156 

o’clock in the morning. Mother taught me 
for a while, and then I went to public school,” 
and the boy’s voice stopped suddenly. 

“ Well? ” Archie asked quietly. 

“ Well,” Tom continued, “ when I was 
twelve mother and I moved over to Los 
Angeles, an’—an’—Oh, well! she married 
again, an’ I didn’t like that for nothin’, so I 
ran away to ’Frisco, an’ shipped on one of 
the Pacific Mail steamers as a page—sort of 
a sea-goin’ bell hop. It was fierce! So I— 
when we got to Shanghai, I beat it—I ran 
off, I mean—an’—an’, Mr. Archie, the joi¬ 
liest time I’ve ever had in my life was when 
I stripped off naked one night, there on the 
dock, an’ chucked that durned red uniform, 
with its crazy little short-waisted pea-jacket, 
an’ the fool little pill-box hat, with its gold 
braid, overboard. It was bully! ” and the 
boy’s eyes twinkled for a moment before he 
went on. “ I put on some clothes I’d bought 
from a Chink, just an undershirt an’ a pair 
of short pants, an’ I shipped as cabin boy on 
the toughest old Peiho junk you ever saw. 
It was pretty awful on board, an’—an’ I 
don’t like to talk ’bout it,” and he shivered 



OF CATHEDRAL CLOISTERS 157 


and then flushed. “ Well, anyhow/’ he con¬ 
tinued, “ our papers were for Bombay, but 
soon as we’d cleared the harbor, we headed 
for Japan, an’ didn’t stop till we’d made 
Nakisaki. I was pretty sick when we got 
there, so the old man—the Captain, you 
know—a Chink from somewhere up the 
Yangtzse-Kiang, chucked me on the wharf, 
an’ sailed off for Formosa. The rest is easy. 
4 Mr. Mandarin,’ as you fellers call him, was 
in Nakisaki, on his way to Yokahama, to see 
a friend of his there, an’ he found me, picked 
me up, took care of me, and now I’m here. 
He’s been mighty good to me, an’ he says 
he’ll let me be a sailor when I grow up.” 

“ But how did you get that voice of yours 
trained? ” 

“ Oh, that’s easy. I took lessons for a 
while up in a town on the Yangtsze-Kiang, 
I can’t tell you its name—where me an’ Kum- 
Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat lived for a bit, ’cause 
he just loved to hear me sing—he’s crazy 
’bout music, you know—but ’most of my 
training I got as a choir boy, when I was a 
kid in Louisville.” 



EIGHT BELLS 


158 

“ Where ? At Christ Church Cathedral ? ” 
“ Sure! Did you go there, Mister? ” 

“ You just bet I did! I was a soloist there, 
when I was a youngster." 

“ That's great," said the boy, glancing 
down at the most unchoir-boylike hand of 
his bright bladed machete, and laughing 
mischievously: “ Then we're feller citizens, 
choir mates, an' shipmates, ain't we? " 

“ Why, yes, and we'll be more than that 
before we get through," Archie answered. 

“ Whatcha mean ? " asked the boy. 

“ Well, we’ll stick together, you and I, 
and the rest of us, and be helpmates one of 
these days," the young fellow answered. 
“ What was your father's name, Boyito? " 

“ I dunno," blushing, and looking a little 
sulky. 

“ Do you know your mother's name? " 

“ Well, I should say I do! " the pirate boy 
replied, a rare pride in his young voice. “ She 
was from swell people—up in New York. 
Her name was Fanny vanZandt." 


CHAPTER XVII 


“ AULD ROBIN GRAY ” 

" But such a tide as moving, seems asleep, 

Too full for sound or foam. 

When that which drew from out the boundless deep, 
Turns again home!” 

( —Alfred Tennyson.) 

“ Tom,” said Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat 
a few days after the above conversation, “ I 
have to go to Taboga for a week and, young 
as you are, I know I can trust you—for Tve 
been good to you. Haven't I? ” and he 
smiled down at the boy. 

His keen old eyes noticed the way the lad 
winced as he said this, and so he followed 
up his advantage promptly. 

“ I shall leave the “ Sapalo ” just where 
she is, and shall leave Alf in command, but 
remember, you are responsible for the three 
Americans, though I'll leave the others to 
help you. Now you saw me strangle that 
dark skinned English boy with my hands, 
that night at Ancon cove, and just be good 

159 


i6o 


EIGHT BELLS 


enough to remember that is what will happen 
to Tom, if they get away. The big fellow is 
fond of you, so I will tell him, and then, if I 
know anything about his kind, he will see 
that all of them stay here.” 

“ Indeed, Kum-Sing,” the boy said, his 
breath coming in pants from between his 
half open lips, “ Fd lots rather not. Please 
let me go with you to Taboga.” 

“ It is all settled,” the old man answered, 
“ and I cannot change my plans. Be a good 
boy—without it you’ll never be a good sailor. 
And while I am at Taboga I will run over 
to Panama and bring you some new songs, 
some oratorios, that are really very pretty, 
and of which I am especially fond. They will 
suit your voice.” 

For a long time after the old Chinaman 
had walked over to the bungalow, Tom stood 
on the hot beach. As he thought of Archie, 
and of all the young fellow’s healthy compan¬ 
ionship meant to him, he undid the gaudy red 
sash that was around his thick waist, and 
let the machete drop to the sand, but a 
moment later a picture came to him of a 
cruelly beaten, morally horrified, small boy, 


“ AULD ROBIN GRAY ” 161 

lying on the dock at Nakisaki, with a kind, 
fat old man in a gorgeous mandarin robe 
bending over him and carrying him in his 
own arms to a jinrickshaw, and as he thought 
of all this he stopped, picked up the sash, re¬ 
tied it and, thrusting the heavy blade of the 
knife through it, walked slowly toward the 
“ Kitten,” where she rode a few feet from 
the quay. There were tears in his eyes as he 
waded out to her and climbed on board, and, 
taking up the oars, began to row toward the 
sloop, his gaze fixed steadily on the bunga¬ 
low. As he rowed, he sang softly an old 
Scotch song he had not thought of since he 
had left his mother: 

“ ‘ O sair, sair did we greet, and muckle 
did we say; 

We took but ae kiss, and we tore our¬ 
selves away. 

I wish that I was dead, but I’m no 
like to dee; 

And why was I born to say Wae’s 
me?'” 

The steady swing of his oars, and the sad 
young voice blended together as he rowed 


EIGHT BELLS 


further and further from the shore, his tones 
rising as the distance increased: 

“ T gae like a ghaist, an' I carna to 
spin; 

I durna think on Jamie, for that wad 
be a sin; 

But I'll do my best a gude wife to be, 

For auld Robin Gray he is kind unto 
me!’” 


CHAPTER XVIII 


THE BUNGALOW AMONG THE 
POINSETTIAS 

" Fierce he broke forth: ‘ And darst thou then, 

To beard the lion in his den. 

The Douglas in his hallf 
And hop 3 st thou hence unscathed to gof — 

No, by Saint Bride of Bothwell, no! 

Up drawbridge, grooms — what, warders, ho! 

Let the portcullis fall! 

( —Sir Walter Scott.) 

The old Chinaman knew human nature 
very well indeed, and he was perfectly sure 
of the proper methods to be used to play on 
Tom’s sympathies and peculiarities. He had, 
he felt certain, succeeded in implanting, or 
to be more accurate, in intensifying, the boy’s 
loyalty and feeling of obligation to himself, 
and before sailing for Taboga he proceeded 
to lay plans for the touching of another 
chord in the lad’s soul: his love for the 
romantic and the bizarre. He had a talk with 
Alf and the other sailors, all American or 
English, that he was leaving on the 

163 


164 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Sapalo,” and instructed them, with a hu¬ 
morous twinkle in his slanting old eyes, to 
treat the temporary commander with great 
respect, and Alf, answering for the other 
seamen, as well as for himself, replied, “ Aye, 
aye, sir,” with a grin of such complete 
understanding that Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong- 
Fat was quite enraptured. Just before he 
slipped from the panga, in which Tom had 
rowed him to the side of the “ Paloseco,” the 
schooner that was to take him to Taboga, 
and which the old fellow had quite fatuously 
named after the Panamenian Leper colony, 
he handed the boy a thin bladed, ivory 
handled knife. It was a beautiful piece of 
workmanship, both as to the finely tempered 
steel in the blade, and the ornate carving on 
the hilt. 

“ It is a cruel knife, this,” he said, as he 
gave it to the youngster, “ but it will suit you. 
Do you know, my son, what the Midshipman 
boy calls you? He shivers when he says it, 
and I do not wonder! He calls you ‘ that 
Pirate Boy/ What would he call you if he 
saw this little blade over his thick, white 
throat—in that brown hand of yours ? Hey ? 


THE BUNGALOW 


165 

Well, as I said, it is a cruel knife, but it is 
just the thing for a 4 Pirate Boy,’ or a Devil 
Boy! Good-bye. Keep a good watch, and 
try to remember your fat, old Mandarin, 
won't you, Tom, and our good times in the 
little bungalow over on the Yangtsze-Kiang? 
We will have many more good days there, 
my son, before you have a ship of your own. 
Yes, as I have said, keep a good watch! Trust 
nobody! ” And as the schooner sailed away, 
the old fellow made a quaint little Oriental 
salaam, which the boy, standing in the panga, 
returned very gravely, as he had been taught. 

Then he sat to his oars, and rowed over to 
the “ Sapalo,” where he was received with a 
grim and grisly courtesy that was quite dif¬ 
ferent to the usual, hail-fellow-well-met man¬ 
ner that existed between himself and the 
other men before the mast, and that was 
very flattering to him. Leaving the little 
sloop, he was rowed, this time in the gig, to 
the island, and it was with no little feeling of 
pride that he swaggered into the bungalow 
where, it being almost half-past eleven, 
breakfast was well under way. Hi-Chow, 
Kum-Sing’s servant, pulled out the Man- 



EIGHT BELLS 


166 

darin’s beautiful inlaid armchair of teak 
wood that stood at the head of the small 
table, and the boy sat down. 

Archie, sitting opposite to him, smiled his 
usual jolly greeting, Don nodded, and Billy 
grinned in most friendly fashion, for he 
liked ‘ The Good Little Devil/ as Archie 
sometimes called Tom, though he stood in 
some awe of him, due chiefly to the machete 
that he always wore. 

“ Gimme some more of that ‘ Bombay 
duck/ Hi-Chow/ , Tom said, after he had 
sat silent for a while, and after he had helped 
himself to the curried rice, he added, “ IBs 
just bully! ” 

“ Me get! ” the servant answered, smiling 
from ear to ear, for, next to Kum-Sing- 
Hong-Chong-Fat, there was nobody whom 
he liked as he did the pirate boy. 

“ Better try some of this chutney, Tom,” 
said Don, passing him that most delectable 
of condiments. “ It's dandy.” 

“ Hi-Chow’ll gimme what I want,” Tom 
answered gruffly, scowling at Don. 

He did not know it, of course, but the 
effect of that frown on his brown, freckled, 


THE BUNGALOW 167 

impudent face was really funny. It was too 
much for Billy, and he began to giggle. 

“ O-o-oh! ” he grinned. “ Do that some 
more. Please do! You're makin’ a rippin’ 

‘ Pirate Boy 9 now, and-” 

“ You shut up! ” Tom answered angrily, a 
dull flush showing under his tanned skin, and 
leaning over, he slapped the astonished small 
boy. 

For a second the child shrank back, and 
then a blush showed in turn on his face, but 
before he could say, or do, anything, the 
Midshipman had jumped to his feet, and had 
struck Tom over the mouth with his opened 
hand. 

“ Hit somebody your own size, you cad! ” 
he cried angrily. 

The other boy jumped up so suddenly that 
the heavy teak chair upset. 

“ You just bet I will! ” he yelled, and he 
gave Don a blow on the side of his yellow 
head that sent him to the floor, rather 
stunned by his fall. In a moment Tom was 
on the husky, scuffling Midshipman, who 
was still a little dazed, so that the younger 



EIGHT BELLS 


168 

boy’s sturdy heaviness crushed down the 
solid form under him. 

Hi-Chow, at the very first signs of a fight, 
had rushed into the kitchen, and now re¬ 
turned with a carving knife in one hand, 
and grabbing the heavy mahogany table, 
began to push it, with Archie behind it, into 
a corner, shrieking and chattering shrilly. 
He was afraid that the big tutor would hurt 
his “ dear boy,” and he was going to prevent 
it Whether his “ dear boy ” killed Don or 
not was another matter—that didn’t worry 
him at all. 

“ You started callin’ me names, you big 
sissy, you!” Tom panted, as he began to 
choke the struggling youngster under him. 
“ You wanted to make fun of me, didn’t you? 
An’—an’ laugh at me, callin’ me ‘ Pirate 
Boy,’ an’ all that! Well now—take it back! 
Do you hear? Take it back! ” 

“I won’t!” Don answered breathlessly, 
his hands closing on the strong brown wrists 
in an effort to loosen the merciless young 
fingers that were closing tighter and tighter 
around his throat. 


THE BUNGALOW 


169 

Suddenly Tom drew the thin bladed knife 
that Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat had given 
him, and holding it above his head, ready 
to strike, he cried, half maddened by the 
unfrightened defiance in the other lad's eyes: 

“ Now will you take it back? ” 

“No!" and the knife was about to de¬ 
scend, when a wolfish little cry sounded in 
the room, and the next instant the pirate boy 
felt a sharp pain in the muscles of his right 
forearm, the one in which he held the knife, 
as Billy's white teeth tore through the tough, 
sun-browned skin, and sank into the flesh. 

With a sharp gasp of pain, Tom let go of 
the Midshipman and, clenching his left fist, 
he struck the little boy in the chest, and with¬ 
out a sound the teeth relaxed their hold, and 
the youngster crumpled up on the floor in a 
small heap. In that moment, however, Don 
had struggled to his feet, and at the same 
instant Archie, picking up the table bodily, 
had downed the sprightly Hi-Chow, who 
now lay under the wreckage, wailing dis¬ 
mally. 

Tom, seeing that both Don and Archie 
were now coming toward him, jumped into a 


170 


EIGHT BELLS 


corner, where he stood, his face dead white, 
his knife held ready. Archie walked straight 
up to him and caught the hand that held the 
knife, and then, exerting his strength, he 
brought both the boy's wrists together, his 
eyes blazing, his face set. 

“ Take that knife, Don! ” he said to the 
Midshipman. “ Now, boy,” to Tom, “ there’s 
the door. Go! You'll have to come back at 
dinner time, because Kum-Sing told you to 
—but don’t forget one thing: you’re a cow¬ 
ard! That’s all! Now, go! ” 

Very straight, his big eyes looking directly 
before him, his hands clenched at his sides, 
the pirate boy walked slowly to the door. 
Big, scalding tears tumbled down his face, 
and he let them fall unashamed, as he let the 
warm drops of blood run down his torn arm, 
unchecked. A moment later he was gone. 


CHAPTER XIX 


“ YELLOW JACK ” 

“ Not me! Not much! IVe never leaves a Pal when 
we're out asploring. Long as we lives we never does it. 
Not never! ” 

( —Hall Caine.) 

Much to Archie's relief, the Commodore 
was not at all badly hurt, only a good deal 
upset, as Don explained it, and yet he did 
not seem to be in any way proud of having 
saved the Midshipman's life. It was very 
different with his tutor, however, for the big 
fellow gloried in his youngster's pluck, and 
Don, though he did not say much, boy fash¬ 
ion, felt deeply enough the fearless love Billy 
had shown in coming to his help. 

“ You're the spunkiest kid I ever heard 
of! " he said when the small boy had got his 
breath. 

“ Now, what's going to be the outcome of 
all this, Donny ? " Archie asked an hour later, 
when the Chinaman had retired to the 


171 


172 


EIGHT BELLS 


kitchen, still weeping copiously, and they 
were all seated on the veranda. 

“ I hardly know, sir,” Don replied, “ but 
the chances are that that pirate boy will go 
back to the “ Sapalo ” and return, probably 
after dark, with the whole pack at his heels, 
and then-” 

“ And then? ” from the tutor. 

“ I dunno what will happen exactly.” 

In spite of their expectations to the con¬ 
trary, Tom did not tell what had happened, 
and at dinner that evening, he came in and 
sat down at his place without a word, his 
eyes hidden under his thick, brown lashes. 
It was the first time since he had known him 
that Archie had ever seen the boy fail to 
meet his eyes squarely. 

“ Probably feels like a whipped dog! ” he 
thought, “ and it’s a jolly good thing.” 

Only once did the grey eyes look up, and 
that was when Don and the tutor began to 
discuss the proper way to lay a course from 
Bocas del Toro to Porto Bello, and then, for 
just a moment, he listened eagerly, but as 
soon as Archie’s look caught his, he dropped 
his eyes again. 



“ YELLOW JACK ” 


173 


After dinner, while the others sat on the 
beach, Tom stayed in the Quayaquil ham¬ 
mock, his eyes following them faithfully, as 
he had promised Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong- 
Fat, like some sullen little watch dog. The 
three friends on the sands talked earnestly, 
in low voices. 

“ One of us must stay awake all night, 
Don,” Archie said. We’ve got to keep an 
eye on that young devil, and he sleeps in the 
bungalow since the old man has gone.” 

“ You just bet we have to,” Don agreed, 
“ and we’ll take turns. Shall we?” 

“ Right you are, and we’ll have our Com¬ 
modore bunk with us! How about it, 
Buster ? ” 

“Yes, sir!” the boy answered, “but I’d 
love to take my watch, like the rest of you. 
Couldn’t I ? ” 

“ I’m afraid not, old man,” from Archie. 
You’ve been too much of a hero once to-day 
for us to risk your getting hurt again.” 

“ But it’d be no end jolly to be a guard ! ” 
Billy protested, but Archie shook his head, 
and they all three got to their feet, and 
strolled back to the house. 


174 


EIGHT BELLS 


About ten o’clock, after the tutor had put 
Billy to bed, he said to Don, as he slipped into 
his pajamas: 

“ Do you know, I believe that sailor boy 
is sick? No youngster of his temperament 
could sulk as steadily as this, without break¬ 
ing loose, and he’s been lying in that ham¬ 
mock on the porch ever since dinner.” 

“ Pshaw, he’s made of too tough stuff to 
get sick! ” Don grunted. “ He’s just plain 
mad, that’s all,” and he sat down in a chair, 
ready for his four hour watch, while 
Archie curled himself up by the softly 
breathing little Commodore, and went fast 
to sleep. 

At two o’clock, in the damp chill of the 
early tropic morning, Don, worn out by his 
vigil, called the tutor and then took his place 
on the bed by the small boy, while Archie, 
slipping his toes into a pair of Chinese slip¬ 
pers, walked softly out on to the porch, and 
looked over the quiet sea for a moment, and 
then glanced cautiously toward the Quaya- 
quil hammock, and the next moment, with a 
startled cry, he had sprung toward it, for in 
it lay the pirate boy, as he had expected, but 


“ YELLOW JACK ” 


175 


all huddled up, his eyes wide with terror, his 
face flushed and contorted with pain, and 
with the deadily nausea that seemed to be 
tearing at his very huskiness like a claw. His 
eyelids were slightly swollen, and his body 
shook with a chill. As Archie knelt down by 
the side of the hammock, and saw the real 
agony on the young face, all his hatred for 
the lad vanished, and he said gently: 

“ What’s the matter, Tom? Won’t you 
tell a fellow? ” 

For a second the sick boy tried to keep up 
the sulky silence that his hurt pride had 
caused, but he could not manage it, so at last 
he spoke: 

“ Oh, I dunno,” he moaned, with a shiver. 
“ But Fm sick, just awful sick! ” 

The man looked at him more closely, and 
took one of his hot hands between his big, 
cool ones. On the flushed face was discern¬ 
ible a faint, strange, jaundiced hue, while 
the eyes, usually so clear, were now reddish 
and injected. An expression of horror came 
into his face, and as the sick boy noticed it, 
the fear in his eyes became more distressed. 


EIGHT BELLS 


176 

44 It ain’t 4 Yellow Jack/ is it? ” he panted, 
pathetically scared. 

44 1 do not know, but I think it’s yellow 
fever,” Archie answered quietly. 44 Wish to 
goodness I was a doctor! Put your arms 
around my neck, Tom, and I’ll carry you in 
to bed.” 

44 Oh, you’ll leave me now! The lot of you! 
You’ve got your chance,” the boy gasped, as 
Archie picked him up in his arms. 44 But go 
ahead. I—I’d rather you got off. Honest! ” 

44 Then you don’t know us, Boyito,” the 
man answered gravely. 44 We gave you our 
words we’d stay, and you know what will 
happen to you if we go—not from the fever, 
but from Kum-Sing, I mean. We just 
couldn’t leave you to that.” 

44 But you never promised Kum-Sing, he 
told me so himself. You promised me—an’ 
I guess I’ll give that promise back—’cause— 
’cause—I guess I want you to get off—sort 
of—only I’m scared, ’cause—’cause if he 
starts to hurt me a lot—I may—better take 
back your promise.” 

44 Better still! Now we’ll never leave you, 
unless we all leave together,” saying which, 
Archie laid the boy on his bed. 


CHAPTER XX 


“ A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL ” 

O sister, sister, thy first-begotten! 

The hands that cling, and the feet that follow. 
The voice of the child’s blood crying yet, 

Who hath remembered mef Who hath forgotten? 

Thou hast forgotten, O summer swallow, 

But the world shall end when I forget 

(—Algernon Charles Swinburne.) 

Tom must have contracted the yellow 
fever during a flying trip that he and Bias 
had taken to Panama city some days before, 
to mail a letter for “ Mr. Mandarin ”; a let¬ 
ter that the old fellow insisted should bear 
the postmark of Ancon, C. Z. In it was a 
message that was to bow the grey head of 
William vanZandt in the keenest sorrow that 
he had ever known, for it told him of Billy's 
death, and of the finding of his other grand¬ 
child, the son of his disinherited daughter, 
Fanny. It described Tom as being very 
much like his mother (which he wasn't in 
the least !), and gave a most pathetic little 
picture of the mother's death, at which time, 

177 


178 


EIGHT BELLS 


so it was stated, she had left the boy to the 
tender care of the writer. 

In reality, Tom's mother had been only too 
glad when he had run away, and had later 
received what seemed to her rather a hand¬ 
some sum of money from Kum-Sing-Hong- 
Chong-Fat for giving up legal claim to the 
boy. It never entered the good lady's head 
that the Chinaman was planning to kidnap 
her brother's son, and then produce her own 
child as heir to her father's money, but such 
was the case. 

Kum-Sing knew very well that as soon as 
the letter reached Mr. vanZandt, the old 
gentleman would cable his daughter-in-law, 
in Panama, and that then an investigation 
would begin. Forseeing which, he had laid 
his plans carefully, and it was for the carry¬ 
ing out of these same plans that he had gone 
to Taboga, for he knew of an Englishman, a 
typical soldier of fortune, who had come to 
South America in an ocean-going yacht, for 
the purpose of hunting some hidden treasure 
off the Pearl Islands. Having failed to find 
it, the Briton found the yacht rather an onus 
on his hands, and so the old Chinaman knew 


“ A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL ” 


179 


he could have it just about at his own price. 
He was going to buy the “ Dagmar, ,, that 
was the ship’s name, and take his prisoners 
and Tom over to his little bungalow on the 
banks of the Yangtsze-Kiang, letting the 
“ Sapalo ” drift to Panama, a silent witness 
of the little boy’s death. 

He sent Alf a letter, telling him of his 
plans, ending with the statement that he 
would return with the “ Dagmar ” in exactly 
two weeks, arriving off the island at seven 
o’clock, Monday morning. That was this old 
fellow’s methodical way. 

Now, when he had received the letter, it 
occurred to the old sailor that he should at 
once consult the pirate boy, whom Kum- 
Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat, as he knew, had left 
in charge of the prisoners, and so, about nine 
o’clock on the same morning that Tom had 
collapsed, he took his letter, which he had 
received on the returning “ Palaseco ” the 
night before, and walked to the bungalow. 
Just before he reached it, the excited, hysteri¬ 
cal Chinese cook darted out, rushed up to 
him and told him of the case of yellow fever, 
whereupon Alf, giving him the note, and 


i8o 


EIGHT BELLS 


having made the astonished Hi-Chow swear 
by all the Josses in Jossland that he would 
give it to Tom if he was well enough to read 
it, and if not, would destroy it, he hurried 
back to the “ Sapalo ” to think over what was 
best to be done. The long and short of it was 
that he set a guard of three men to patrol 
the beach, and in the meantime waited for 
some boat to pass from the Pearl Islands 
by which he could send a message to Taboga. 

Tom’s attack of yellow fever was not at all 
a severe one, though bad enough, so he 
thought, and the three friends had their 
hands full, nursing him. The strangest part 
of it all was that the sick lad would now do 
anything Billy said, not always willingly, 
may be, but submissively, and even on the 
third day of his sickness, when he lay ex¬ 
hausted from the loss of haematemitic blood, 
he would swallow the tiny pieces of crushed 
ice that the small boy gave, and would try 
to thank him, too, even when the excruciat¬ 
ing abdominal pains that he suffered brought 
the sweat out in great beads on his face. 

At first Archie had felt unwilling to let 
his small charge go into the infected room, 


“ A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL ” 181 

but after Don, who had heard his medical 
friend at Ancon talk for a solid hour on the 
subject of the conveyance of yellow fever by 
mosquitoes, and by that means alone, and as 
the island was entirely free from this pest, 
he finally let the youngster do his part in 
the nursing, with the result that he became 
the most valuable of the three. The utter 
helplessness of this brown young husky ap¬ 
pealed to all that was best in Billy’s chival¬ 
rous little soul, and both Archie and Don 
were amazed at his untiring tenacity. 

After the crisis was well over, and Tom 
was able to sit on the porch most of the time, 
still weak, but tranquil, as he rested back on 
his pillows, he would get all the “ Red Cross 
Society,” as Archie called them, to sit around 
him, and, as Don strummed softly on his 
banjo, they would all sing to him until they 
felt that they could not possibly sing another 
note, when Tom would beg for just one more 
tune, and if Archie would shake his curly 
head, and smile helplessly, Don would in¬ 
terfere: 


EIGHT BELLS 


182 

“ Aw, go ahead and sing, Mr. Archie! ” 
he would strike in, “ if our ‘ Good Little 
Devil ’ wants us to. Tune up ! ” 

“That’s right!” Tom would grin, “do 
what‘ Mr. Midshipman Easy ’ says; tune up! 
—just to please your—your ‘ Good Little 
Devil/ you know.” 

(It was always “ Mr. Midshipman Easy,” 
and “ Our Good Little Devil ” nowadays, for 
the two boys were friends even to the point 
of Don offering to teach the sailor lad what 
he knew of navigation, and, what was still 
more remarkable, for Tom to be willing to 
accept the instruction.) 

It was a queer sight, the quintette that 
indulged in these “ Sing-Songs,” as Don 
loved to call them, in true Naval fashion. 
Tom, weak, a little languid still, his large 
eyes looking bigger than ever in his pale, 
freckled face, lying back in the rattan mor¬ 
ris-chair; Billy sitting on one of its arms, 
his head resting on the pirate boy’s brown 
one, an arm flung carelessly over the larger 
boy’s shoulders; Don sitting, Turk fashion, 
at his feet on one end of the big mat, his 
banjo on his knees; Hi-Chow, grinning hap- 


“ A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL ” 183 

pily, squatting on the other end, a strange 
little Oriental drum in his lap, from which, 
by a series of dexterous little taps and rubs, 
he could produce the most fearful racket; 
and Archie, looking careworn and tired, but 
smiling for all that, swinging back and forth 
in the Quayaquil hammock, singing at the top 
of his voice, or softly, as the song demanded. 

Hi-Chow had fulfilled his promise to Alf, 
and had given “ Mr. Mandarin’s ” note to 
Tom, but he had waited until he felt that the 
boy was well enough to read it, which hap¬ 
pened to be on the night of one of these 
“ Sing-Songs.” 

After looking at the finely written page 
many times, the youngster scowled, and then, 
as he curved his arm more closely around 
the warm body of the drowsy Commodore, 
he spoke: 

“ He can’t have you, Billy,” he said aloud. 
“ An’ he shan’t have any of ’em, not if your 
‘ Good Little Devil ’ knows it.” 

“What’s up, Tom?” Don asked in sur¬ 
prise. 

For a few seconds Tom did not answer, 
and when he finally did, it was to Archie. 


184 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Isn’t it time for our Commodore to go 
to bed ” 

“ High time,” the tutor replied briskly, 
picking the sleepy small boy up in his arms. 
Come ahead, you young night owl! ” and he 
carried Billy off. 

When they were gone, Tom turned to the 
Midshipman : 

“ 4 Mr. Midshipman Easy,’ ” he said, a 
little sadly, “ read this. I’m doin’ right in 
showin’ this to you, but it’s the first time I 
ever broke a promise an’—oh, it’s all sort of 
hard! But you read it, please,” and he 
handed the letter to the older boy. 

44 What you going to do about it ? ” Don 
asked, looking up from the note. 

44 Show it to Mr. Archie,” Tom answered 
sturdily, 44 an’ do whatever he says—though 
I’ve a sort of a plan my own self. Oh, Don! 
If I wasn’t feeling so blamed good-for- 
nothin’! ” 

At this moment Archie rejoined them, 
having left Billy with Hi-Chow, who, since 
the small boy’s kindness to Tom, had become 
quite slavish in his devotion to him. 


“ A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL ” 185 

“ What’s up? ” he asked. 

“ Pretty much everything,” Don answered, 
as he handed him the letter. 

After the tutor had read it he sat silent 
for a while and then, as was always his way 
when he had a worrying problem to think of, 
he took out his pipe, filled it, lit it, and puffed 
several times before he spoke. 

“ We’ve got just four days left,” he said 
quietly, “ in which to do anything. Just 
exactly four days and a night. Wonder if 
you’ll be able to get around by that time, 
Tom ? ” 

“ Why, I’ve just got to,” the boy answered, 
“ an’ I’ll tell you what we’ll do, sir, that is, 
if you an’ Don agree, or if you can’t think of 
anything else. Kum-Sing comes in, on the 
“ Dagmar,” Monday morning. Well, Sun¬ 
day night we five will just have to get hold 
of the “ Sapalo ” and make for Panama, or, 
better still, La Boca. Hi-Chow will do his 
part, if you let him do it his way; it’s an 
awful ugly way, but it works! God knows 
how we can protect our Commodore, but 
we’ll do the best we can! Counting Alf, 
there are seven men on the “ Sapalo,” but 


EIGHT BELLS 


186 

three are always on duty, on the beach. If 
we could finish up those first, we would be 
equal in numbers, though not, by a long sight, 
in strength, to the fellows on board.” 

“Good!” Archie interrupted excitedly. 
“ And we’ll do it, Boyito! We’ll have to! ” 
“ Yes,” Tom continued, “ an’ I’ll tell you 
how. Hi-Chow an’ me will stay in the 
bungalow with Billy, an’ I’ll raise sand—yell 
for help, an’ all that, you know—an’ when 
the guard from the beach comes up we’ll 
fight ’em the best we can. Remember, there 
are only two revolvers, and that’s all the fire¬ 
arms we’ve got. I’ll keep one, and you take 
the other. I ain’t a very good shot, but you 
bet I’ll do the best I can! An’ Hi-Chow can 
use my machette. If the sailors lick us, I’ll 
try to hold ’em, while he takes Billy out the 
side window, and joins you fellows.” 

“ But, Tom,” Don cried, “ we are not 
going to leave a sick fellow like you! We 
just can’t do that; can we, Mr. Archie? ” 

“ But it seems to me that we’ve got to,” 
the man answered, a catch in his voice, and 
all were silent. At last Don spoke: 

“ Then when’ll we try it? ” he asked. 


" A GOOD LITTLE DEVIL ” 187 

“ Sunday night, about eight. That will 
give Tom the last four days in which to get 
stronger/’ Archie answered. “ The tide’s 
right then, too, and it will hardly be before, 
and besides, we’ll not be able to get to La 
Boca, nor Panama either, without passing 
Taboga, and that would be a fool’s errand 
to attempt in the day, and with Kum-Sing 
there to see us.” 

The next morning Tom took Hi-Chow into 
his confidence, and found, as he had felt cer¬ 
tain that he would, that he could trust him 
implicitly, unless Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong- 
Fat should return before they left, in which 
case he would undoubtedly prove quite use¬ 
less, on account of the absolute terror he felt 
for that plump old gentleman. Telling Billy 
of the plan proved, strange to say, very much 
harder, because the small boy had been 
through so much, that the idea of their delib¬ 
erately going into another fight scared him. 
The horror of Pat’s fate came back to him 
vividly, and in the end he burst out crying— 
he was only a ten-year-old, remember. 

No one ever knew just how much Archie 
suffered at this time, for, after calming the 


EIGHT BELLS 


188 

little chap, he had to explain that he was to 
stay in the bungalow with Hi-Chow and the 
pirate boy, until the rest succeeded in taking 
the ship, when he was to join them. If, of 
course, as was highly probable, Tom and the 
Chinaman succeeded in getting the best of 
the three seamen of the beach guard, from 
their ambush in the bungalow, before the 
sloop was reached, they would all make a 
rush for it together, and row off, taking 
their chances about boarding the “ Sapalo.” 


CHAPTER XXI 


“ THE CONQUERED BANNER ” 

“ Furl that banner, for 'tis weary, 

Round its staff 'tis drooping dreary. 

Furl it, fold it, it is best; 

For there's not a man to wave it — 

And there's not a sword to save it. 

And there's not one left to lave it 
In the blood which heroes gave it; 

And its foes now scorn and brave it; 

Furl it, hide it—Let it rest! " 

( —Father Ryan.) 

Sunday night came, and was as peaceful 
as a night could well be. The tide was high, 
and by eight o’clock the sound of its lapping 
was easy to hear, while some distance off, the 
dull booming of the black waters sounded 
ominously, as the great, full tide rolled 
against the reef that protected part of the 
cove, and came thundering on the smooth, 
slippery rocks, to slide, hissing, among them 
for a moment, only to be sucked out again 
into the ocean. 

At half-past seven, Archie called all the 
rest around him, and, as he took the Corn- 


189 


190 


EIGHT BELLS 


modore on his lap, his blue eyes were 
troubled. Very quietly he opened the small 
Bible he held in his hand, and began to read. 
He read the opening part of the great For¬ 
tieth chapter of Isaiah, ending with the Elev¬ 
enth verse, when his low voice rang out sud¬ 
denly, with all the vigorous faith of a strong 
man, a light on his face like unto a golden 
headed, gloriously young Saint Michael; a 
youth militant: 

“ < He shall feed His flock like a shepherd, 
He shall gather the lambs with His arm, and 
carry them in His bosom, and shall gently 
lead those that are with young/ ” 

The room was very still now, the only 
sound the breathing of the five people that 
were in it, each praying in his own way to 
face whatever was in store for him. The 
Chinaman moved noiselessly to the table and 
lit five small Joss sticks and, kneeling before 
them, he touched his head to the ground three 
times, and then joined the others, who were 
now standing. Suddenly Archie spoke: 

“ Boys,” he said determinedly, “ we’ll all 
stick together—I can’t leave Billy, and,” lay- 


“THE CONQUERED BANNER ” 191 


ing his hand gently on Tom’s shoulder, “ and 
I can’t leave you.” 

“ But the plan! ” Don objected, though he 
felt greatly relieved, too. 

“ We’ll all walk down to the beach to¬ 
gether, slowly, you know, like we often do, 

« 

and then we’ll jump in the panga, and Tom 
will hold off the men on the beach with his 
gun, while the rest of us get her going. You 
can take my revolver, and cover them while 
he gets in, and Hi-Chow and I will row. 

“ An’ if I get hit it won’t make the same 
difference as the others—I see, sir!” Tom 
struck in quietly, his voice steady. 

“ In—in a way, yes, Boyito! ” the young 
fellow answered sadly. “ All ready? Come 
along, then! Keep your side arms close, you 
fellows ! Easy with that machete, Hi- 
Chow ! ” and they walked out, and toward 
the cove. 

It was no easy matter to stroll along in so 
unconcerned a manner, when their nerves 
were strained to the breaking point; but it 
was necessary. As their feet struck the 
smooth, brown pebbles of the quay, Archie 
gave the word, and Billy jumped into the 


192 


EIGHT BELLS 


panga, while Tom, pointing his gun at the 
big sailor, who had started running up the 
beach, fired. As the man dropped, Archie, 
Don and the Chinaman ran the boat out into 
the deep water, and then jumped aboard. A 
rifle cracked from further up the beach as 
the two other guards came running, and 
Tom stumbled, but the next moment he was 
on his feet again, and had waded through 
the water to the waiting panga. Another 
rifle ball passed over the boat as he climbed 
on board, and another, following on its heels, 
ploughed its way into the soft, white skin 
over Billy’s right shoulder, coming out at a 
point under the arm, between the intersect¬ 
ing lines of the blue cross. Tom caught the 
bleeding youngster as he sank to the bottom 
of the boat, and as he did so, the Midship¬ 
man’s revolver spat out a streak of flame, 
and the man who had shot the small boy 
threw up his arms, spun ’round, and then 
fell on his face. 

“ Row! ” cried Tom. “ Row like hell! ” 
and the panga cut through the long, smooth 
swells, being almost lifted out of the water 
by the strength of the strokes. As she grazed 


. 



A RIFLE BALL PLOUGHED ITS WAY INTO BILLY’S RIGHT 
SHOULDER. — PAGE 192. 

t 















“THE CONQUERED BANNER ” 193 

the white sides of the “ Sapalo ” they could 
see Alf, a grim shadow in the darkness, wait¬ 
ing for them, a rifle in his arm. 

Suddenly Hi-Chow jumped to his feet and, 
as he sprang to the deck, the old sailor fired, 
but too late, for, as the ball passed through 
the Chinaman's body, the blade of his 
machete fell on the other’s skull, and they 
dropped to the deck, and, in a ghastly em¬ 
brace, rolled into the sea. 

Don and Archie, the latter with the re¬ 
volver now, had gained the deck by this time, 
leaving Tom in the panga with the wounded 
little boy. 

“ There are three more to settle,” the Mid¬ 
shipman panted, and picking up the rifle that 
Alf had been using, he followed Archie for¬ 
ward, where the three remaining sailors were 
huddled close to the bowsprit, their hands 
above their heads. They had no firearms; 
the only gun left on board the sloop being 
Alf’s. 

Leaving Don to guard the three men, 
Archie went back to the panga, and helped 
Tom to get the poor, limp, little Commodore 
on board. 


194 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ We’ve won! ” Tom cried exultingly. 

“ Run up the colors! ” the Middie an¬ 
swered, from the bow. 

“ I wouldn’t, if I were you, Master Don,” 
said the voice of the seaman, Smith. “ Look 
there, off the port quarter, sir! ” 

Tom had already run up the yachting 
ensign, and as he glanced over the stern he 
saw something that made him stand rigid, 
the halyards still in his hands, for, steaming 
into the narrow entrance of the cove, picking 
her way carefully through the intricate chan¬ 
nel, was the graceful, white hull of a steamer, 
her yacht bow cutting the black water dain¬ 
tily, her two rakish, buff colored funnels let¬ 
ting out thick puffs of black smoke. 

“ It’s the ‘ Dagmar,’ groaned Archie. 
“ See her yachting rig? Kum-Sing’s come 
back twelve hours too early! Strike those 
colors, Tom! ” and as the flag slipped slowly 
down the staff, the rattle of the big yacht’s 
anchor chain could be plainly heard, as she 
hove-to, directly across the entrance to the 


cove. 


CHAPTER XXII 


“ DE PROFUNDIS ” 

“ On the shore, dimly seen through the mists of the 
deep, 

Where the foe's haughty host in dread silence 
reposes, 

What is that which the breeze, o'er the towering 
steep, 

As it fitfully blows, half conceals, half discloses? 

Now it catches the gleam, of the morning’s first beam. 

In full glory reflected, now shines on the stream; 

'Tis the star spangled banner — oh, long jnay it wave, 

O'er the land of the free, and the home of the brave! " 

( —Francis Scott Key.) 

Very quietly they handed over their fire¬ 
arms to the three seamen, who took them 
without a word. There was no harshness 
shown, and Smith even went down into the 
cabin and brought up bandages and sterile 
gauze with which to dress the wound in 
Billy’s shoulder, and later, when the small 
boy seemed to be suffering past all endur¬ 
ance, and Archie asked him to go to the small 
medicine chest, and get the hypodermic case, 
he gladly went a second time, and held the 

195 


EIGHT BELLS 


196 

Commodore in his arms, very gently, while 
the tutor fixed a small dose of morphia in 
the little, nickel syringe, and then injected 
it into the slim arm. 

To tell the truth, the three sailors who 
now were in charge of the “ Sapalo ” felt a 
good deal of pity for the three boys and the 
man whom they were guarding, particularly 
as what would be their fate when the morn¬ 
ing once came, was now so certain. 

Billy, under the influence of the opiate, 
slept quietly, and Tom, weak from his recent 
illness, was soon doing the same. Don and 
Archie paced the deck slowly, neither speak¬ 
ing for awhile. At last the tutor walked up 
to Smith, and spoke in a low voice: 

“ Smith,” he said steadily, “ What will be 
the outcome of all this? To-morrow morn¬ 
ing, I mean, when Kum-Sing takes us on 
board the Dagmar? Tell me exactly, man; 
I know pretty well already. He’ll kill me, 
but how? ” 

“ He’ll hang you, sir. He won’t waste time 
for anything else now; you and the young 
Midshipman.” 


“ DE PROFUNDIS ” 


197 


“But, good God, man! Don’s only a 
child!” 

“ He’ll hang, for all that.” 

“ And the two other boys? ” 

“ Oh, they’ll be safe enough, sir. He wants 
them for something else—some plan he’s got 
in his old head.” 

“If I could just tell them good-bye!” 
Archie sighed. “ And if only they don’t let 
our Commodore see us when it happens! ” 
Then, joining Don, he said softly: “ Try to 
sleep, Donny. We’ll all need our wits to¬ 
morrow.” 

“ You take a little rest, sir,” the Midship¬ 
man answered steadily. “ Oh, I heard what 
Smith told you just now, and I can stand it, 
only—only I hope they’re quick—and I hope 
Billy don’t see it! I’m going to wake Tom 
toward daybreak, sir, and tell him. He’ll 
—he’ll want to know—and he can tell the 
Commodore—afterwards.” 

“ You’re right, Don,” the man answered. 
“ Tom will want to know.” 

As the first opalescent tints of the dawn 
began to take the place of the jetty darkness 


EIGHT BELLS 


198 

that immediately preceded it, the tutor and 
Don woke Tom, and told him. 

44 We—we wanted to say good-bye, you 
know/’ the Midshipman said huskily, not 
daring to look at the grey eyes of the young¬ 
ster opposite him, but holding out his hand. 

The boy took it in his own brown fist, and 
held it tightly, and, a moment later, some¬ 
thing warm had splashed on it. 

“ Good-bye, 4 Mr. Midshipman Easy! ' ” 

44 Good-bye to you, 4 Good Little Devil '! ” 
and they turned away without another word. 

44 Be good to our Commodore, Tom/’ said 
Archie. 44 And don't tell him any more than 
you have to.” 

44 I'll do my best, sir,” the sailor boy an¬ 
swered, and then his voice broke, as he 
added: 44 Oh, God! to be left behind! An' 
I'll have to tell him, poor baby! ” 

44 Yes,” Archie answered, 44 you've got the 
harder path to follow, boy! We suffer for 

just a little while, but you-” and he 

stopped. 

Then he knelt down by the sleeping little 
boy and kissed him on the forehead: 



“DE PROFUNDIS” 


199 


“ I’ve failed you, Billy,” he said softly, 
pushing back the damp, golden hair gently. 
“ But oh, my little boy, my little boy, you’ll 
forgive me, won’t you ? Please, Billy! Good¬ 
bye, good-bye, my Commodore! ” and he rose 
to his feet just as Don, who was standing up 
and looking at the white hull of the steamer, 
uttered a strange cry, and pointed to her 
stern. 

The opal lights had changed to pink, and 
these, in turn, had been succeeded by soft 
purples and reds, and now great shafts of 
gold shot through the mists, which began to 
lift, and as they rolled seaward, the clear 
tones of a bugle sounded from the ship, and 
a moment later the boom of a cannon shook 
the tranquillity of the island, and at the same 
instant a beam from the uprising sun struck 
full across her stern and fell on the flutter¬ 
ing folds of the Stars and Stripes; and on 
the raised, gilt letters on her hull were the 
words that meant safety, protection, and 
kindness to the erstwhile prisoners, for there, 
clear and sharp, was the name of the ship— 
the U. S. S. Princeton. 


CHAPTER XXIII 
HOMEWARD BOUND! 

" This be the verse you grave for me: 

‘ Here he lies where he longed to be; 

Home is the sailor, home from sea, 

And the hunter home from the hill.” 

( —Robert Louis Stevenson.) 

There were no “ side-boys ” drawn up to 
receive the members of the “ Sapalo,” but 
there were lots better things than “side-boys” 
in store for them, for, at the foot of the com¬ 
panion of the “ Princeton,” only a couple of 
feet above the water, stood a very excited 
boy, laughing joyously, but with big tears in 
his dark eyes, too. It was Pat Dean. 

As one of the gunboat's cutters drew 
up alongside, Archie, standing in the stern- 
sheets, picked up Billy in his arms, and 
handed him to the waiting Pat, who, rather 
to the small boy's annoyance, kissed him. 

“ Billy, you little darling, you! ” he cried 
happily, and then carried him, very gently, 
to the quarterdeck, and turned him over to 





200 



HOMEWARD BOUND 


201 


a young officer with a red line of velvet sur¬ 
rounding the two gold bars on his stiff, blue 
shoulder straps, marking him as a Passed 
Assistant Surgeon in the Navy. 

After looking the boy over, this oracle 
voiced the opinion that he was doing -nicely, 
and let him lie back in a low deck chair, care¬ 
fully propped up with pillows. 

In the meantime, all the others had gath¬ 
ered on the quarterdeck also, and Pat and 
Don had exchanged hugs worthy of two 
young bear cubs, and had then shaken hands 
any number of times, both talking at once. As 
to Archie, he sat quietly by the small Com¬ 
modore, though he smiled very gladly at Pat. 
His heart was just a little too full to talk, 
I think. 

The exuberant young souls who, in the 
main, made up the wardroom of the U. S. S. 
“ Princeton,” were all for giving them all 
manner of good times in their sacred pre¬ 
cincts amidships, but the Captain, a Lieu¬ 
tenant Commander, though he laughed good- 
naturedly at their zeal, saw that Archie and 
his boys were too tired, and had been 
through too much, to be able to stand any 


202 


EIGHT BELLS 


more, no matter how pleasant it might be, so 
he settled things by turning over his own 
cabin to them, ordered breakfast for them 
with great care (the first breakfast they had 
had before eleven o’clock since they had 
reached Colon), and then, with a quiet smile, 
left them, and joined the crestfallen ward¬ 
room at its meal, where he was just about 
as welcome as the fattest of garden toads. 

After Archie and the ship’s doctor had 
seen to Billy, and had got him to eat some¬ 
thing (it was then past ten o’clock), they 
tucked him up, most comfortably, in the Cap; 
tain’s own bunk, where the little fellow was 
soon fast asleep. Then the doctor said a 
pleasant “ Good morning,” and absolutely 
flew to the wardroom, knowing that the most 
youthful Ensign on board would eat all the 
deviled kidneys if he did not show up at 
once, and Archie joined the boys in the Cap¬ 
tain’s charming cabin, in the extreme stern, 
with its portholes looking far out over the 
ocean, its brass work polished to a finish, and 
its creamy enamel as smooth and white as 
the Midshipman’s firm skin. 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


203 


Don sat on one side of the round table, 
with Pat as close to him as he could get, while 
Tom rested on a lounge, not feeling very fit, 
but drinking the excellent coffee that the 
little Filipino mess-boy served him with great 
enjoyment, all the same. They were just 
boys, these three; real, normal, wholesome 
boys, and they had had their troubles, but, 
since their aggregate ages only amounted to 
some forty-seven years, they were now quite 
riotously happy, skylarking, rough-housing 
most gayly, while they ate, and living en¬ 
tirely for the present day; their troubles now 
nothing but a great adventure to them, their 
future a wonderful mirage of healthy fun. 

Archie, for the life of him, could not help 
entering into their jollity. He was only too 
glad that it was so, and he was amazed, and 
a little appalled, too, at the enormous number 
of hot batter cakes that Don and Pat were 
consuming. They were having an eating 
race, so they informed him, and just as soon 
as Tom felt better, they planned to have 
another, whereupon the mess-boy threw up 
his hands and fled. 


204 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ But how in the name of the Flying 
Dutchman did you find us?” Don asked, 
giving the Bishop’s son a punch in the stom¬ 
ach — they were constantly punching each 
other, these two, “ sort of letting off steam,” 
as the Middie explained. 

“ Why, it was all jolly curious ! ” Pat re¬ 
plied, his mouth very full of hot cakes. 

“Just hold up a second, Patsie! ” Don 
chuckled. “ And tell Mr. Archie about your 
romance on Lover’s Retreat, with the fair 
Ezabelita. Haven’t heard about that, have 
you, sir? Well, it’s more fun ! ” and he went 
off into shouts of laughter. 

“ Aw, shut up ! ” Pat blurted out, quite 
abashed, but, maybe because he was such a 
jolly, sweet tempered youngster, and realized 
that Archie was still greatly troubled, he 
retold much of his awful weeks, marooned 
with La Preciosa’s granddaughter, and, 
though he blushed a lot during the story, he 
told it awfully well, for he couldn’t help 
seeing how funny it was, he was just that 
kind of a boy, and he was rewarded by hear¬ 
ing the tutor laugh until the tears came into 


HOMEWARD BOUND 205 

his eyes, while the pirate boy giggled joy¬ 
ously on his sofa. 

“ What on earth did you do with her, 
Patsie ? ” Archie chuckled. 

Pat flushed, but stuck to his cheering prop¬ 
aganda like a man: 

“ She’s at home—at Taboga—with La 
Foula Preciosa,” he answered. 

“In the house, on the Plaza, opposite the 
dear little church of Corpus Christi! ” Don 
whooped—and Pat threw a piece of bread 
at him. 

“ Silly ass! ” he grinned sheepishly. “ Glad 
you think it’s so awfully funny! It wasn’t; 
it was beastly! ” 

“ B-but you’re not a beast, you’re a little 
boy-angel,’ you know,” came a laughing 
voice from the regions of the sofa, where¬ 
upon Pat got up and sat on Tom’s brown 
head for a few seconds. 

“ It’s mean to tease you so, old fellow,” 
at last, from Archie, trying his best not to 
laugh any more. “ Let these two young 
monkeys misbehave if they want to, but go 
ahead and tell us what Don asked you. It’s 


206 


EIGHT BELLS 


just about the one sensible thing he’s said in 
the last hour. ,, 

“What’s that, sir?” from Pat, quite 
grateful for a diversion. 

“ Why, how did you come to find us, and 
how did you ever get off the island ? ” 

Pat’s brown eyes began to twinkle with 
fun, though he still was very pink. 

“ Why, you see, sir,” he explained, “ it was 
like this. Me and Ezabelita had been fussin’ 
off and on for about a week, and—and 
makin’ up again—Aw, shut, up, Don! or I 
won’t talk any more. Make him stop, Mr. 
Archie!—Well, we had a grand rumpus one 
morning, an’ I fancy I got most awfully mad, 
and—and said things, you know, ’cause—- 
oh, well! anyway, that crazy girl said she 
was going to drown herself, so ofif she hikes 
for the sea, with me after her, on the trot. 
I was scared, ever so, ’cause I thought she 
really meant to do it. Might have known 
better, though! That’s not Ezabelita’s way! 
Oh, no, sir! Just before I got to the beach, 
a silly old bit of bamboo tripped me up, and 
down I went, head over heels, and rolled a 
goodish way out on to the soft sand. Before 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


207 


I could scramble up, I heard that blamed girl 
laugh like the dickens, and, guess what? 
Why, blamed if there wasn't her old cayuca 
washed bang up on the shore! Maybe I 
didn't run then! and my heart just went 
wallopy-bang-thump, 'cause I was scared to 
death, for I saw what she was up to. Gosh! 
Wasn’t I mad? ” 

“Why?" from Don. “Thought you'd 
have been tickled silly to have the cahuca 
again." 

“ Why? Well, ’cause I guess I know Eza- 
belita heaps and lots better than you fellows 
do. She got to the dug-out before I could, 
and hanged if she doesn't do exactly what 
I expected! She pushes the old tub off, 
jumps in, and paddles to beat anything you 
ever saw, singin' her blamed, silly, old 
‘ Tanta tierra y tanto mar ' fit to scare the 
very pelicans, and laughin' ever so. 

“ 4 You come back here,' I yelled. 

“ ‘ Oh, yes,' she sings out, real sweetly, 
‘ Fm coming back, to-morrow, or the day 
after; when you're not so sulky! I'm going 
to Taboga now—to get some chickens from 
the Americano at the sanitarium' (bet she 


208 


EIGHT BELLS 


swiped ’em!), ‘and I’ll look for your gold 
ring, too, as I go past Ancon! ’ 

“ Then she lets out that durned ‘ Tra-la-la- 
lye-o ’ of hers, and off she goes, cool as a 
cucumber.” 

“ Well, Mr. Archie, believe it or not, but 
I ’most cried. I was pretty miserable, and 
awfully cut up about you fellows, and I was 
half crazy to get off to Panama and try to get 
help for you—and there was that old cayuca 
rollin’ ’round in the ocean, and me high and 
dry on the island. 

“ It was just awful the rest of that day— 
I bet I’m no end grey headed on account of 
it!—but, well, around about four o’clock, 
blamed if here isn’t Ezabelita, paddlin’ like 
mad, and yellin’ fit to beat anything you fel¬ 
lows ever heard! 

“ ‘ I found it! ’ she sings out, soon’s as 
she was within hearing. 

Found what, you silly? ’ I yelled back, 
still no end mad. 

“‘Your gold ring!’ she bawled, ‘but I 
couldn’t bring it to you, ’cause it ain’t in 
Ancon cove; it’s on the hand of the fat old 


HOMEWARD BOUND 209 

Chino that keeps the store called “ La Mano 
del Dios/’ ’ Then I was excited! 

“ After I’d helped her to beach the cayuca, 
and had sat down bang on the top of it, so 
she couldn’t run off with it again, I asked 
her what that Chink looked like? She told 
me, described him to a 4 T,’ and it made me 
sick! I knew bang off that it was the same 
chap that had tried to do for me on the 
‘ Sapalo/ and, just for a second, I—I was 
scared to death! Funny! I was, though! 
She said he’d been away from Taboga, and 
had only got back a few days before. Then 
I told her we’d just have to get over to 
Panama right off, and she said ‘ all right.’ 
She was ever so nice about it, and I—I was 

no end grateful—so I—I-” and he 

stopped, an uncomfortable flush on his brown 
skin. 

“ Well? ” from all three listeners at once. 
“ Go on, Pat. What did you do? ” 

“ I thanked her! ” quite gruffly from Mas¬ 
ter Pat, pink to his ears. “ She was per¬ 
fectly rippin’ about our leaving the island 
this time, and she had been so awfully jolly 
to me, too. Well, we got into that dug-out, 



210 


EIGHT BELLS 


and off we scooted, Ezabelita paddlin’, 
’cause she was lots better at it than me. We 
got on lovely till we were almost at Uriva, 
when we sighted an outgoing steamer, with 
a white hull and a sort of yacht rig, and noth¬ 
ing will do, of course, but that silly must run 
astern of her, to ride the swells in her wake. 
I just knew we’d capsize, and we did, like 
any fellow with half sense might have 
known, but both of us are good enough swim¬ 
mers, so we kept afloat till the steamer hove 
to, lowered a boat, and picked us up, wet as 
rats, only as I didn’t have on a thing ’cept 
my white pants, it didn’t make much 
difference.” 

“ Well, the steamer was the “ Princeton,” 
and wasn’t Captain Rollins bully to us? Oh, 
just! Then, after I’d told him all about the 
scrap in the cove, and Ezabelita had chimed 
in with the old man and my ring, the Captain 
had the gunboat brought about, and we went 
bang to Panama, saw the United States Min¬ 
ister, and the Consul, too; sent the Pana¬ 
manian authorities over to Taboga after that 
old Chink, only I bet they never get him, and 
then steamed all ’round looking for you fel- 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


211 


lows—to Uriva, Otoki, even San Jose Rock 
(beastly little place to climb, San Jose 
Rock!), the Pearl Islands, everywhere; and 
just about when I was pretty near crazy, in 
we put to this island, and dropped anchor for 
the night, 'cause Captain Rollins noticed a 
silly looking cross, done in black charcoal, 
against one of the biggest gray rocks in the 

channel, and this morning we—we-” 

But his brown eyes suddenly filled, and his 
voice got husky, so, with a very shaky little 
grin, he leaned over and punched Don once 
more. 

They were all rather quiet for a bit, but 
then the incorrigible Don broke the silence: 

“And where in thunder is Ezabelita?” 
he demanded. 

“ Oh, we left her at Taboga, you know. 
She lives there, don't she? " 

“ Sure she does! And so, after all she 
did for you, you've gone and put her out of 
your young life forever, have you, you old 
curly-head? I think that's mean! " 

“ Silly ass! " from Pat, with a rather 
guilty grin. “ No, I haven't; not exactly! 
She was jolly good to me, and to all of us, as 



212 


EIGHT BELLS 


it turns out, wasn’t she? Well, we’re still 
awfully good pals! Really! And—and 
we’re going to write to each other when I 
get back to Eton.” 

Don and the 4 Good Little Devil ’ began to 
giggle, and Master Pat’s eyes dropped in 
sulky shyness, but Archie only smiled a little. 

44 Good for you, Pat! ” he said quietly. 

44 You did just right, I think. God knows 
we all owe Ezabelita more than we can ever 
repay her. Now, don’t we, fellows?” and . 
Tom’s and the Midshipman’s 44 You bet!” 
was said with grave heartiness, so that Pat 
felt comforted. 

44 High-ho! ” Archie yawned. 44 It’s nearly 
noon! 4 How time do fly,’ as the little girl 

said; that is, when a fellow’s comfortable, 
and knows that his kids are all safe! Feeling- 
better, Tom?” 

44 I’m feelin’ great, Mr. Archie! ” the once- 
upon-a-time pirate boy answered happily, 
smiling up from his cushions. 44 Why, hully 
gee! I guess I’ve got a right to feel good, 
haven’t I? Huh? Why, fellow, I’m goin’ 
home! We’re all of us goin’ home! An’ I’ll 
have a real, sure ’nough home now, you bet! 


HOMEWARD BOUND 


213 


You said I could stay with you, after you’d 
turned our Commodore over to his folks; 
an’ I can, can’t I ? ” 

“ Of course you can! Didn’t I say we’d 
always stick together, you and I, that time 
over in the bungalow among the poinsettias ? 
And we’ll alway live ‘ happy ever after,’ and 
be ‘ awfully good pals ’— like Patsie, here, 
and Ezabelita, and — Hullo! Listen to that! 
It’s the first time in ages that I’ve heard that 
sound without jumping! Fact!” And he 
smiled a little grimly, as over the quiet waters 
of the Pacific Ocean came the familiar sound 
— Eight Bells ! 




CHAPTER XXIV 
“ BEN BO BOHNS ” 


You'll see her tiering canvass in sheeted silver spread; 

You'll hear the long-drawn thunder 'neath her leaky 
figurehead. 

While far, so far above you, her tall poop-lanterns 
shine. 

Unvexed by wind or weather like candles 'round a 
shrine." 


Hull down—hull down and under—she dwindles to 
a speck, 

With noise of pleasant music and dancing on her 
deck. 

All's well — all's well aboard her — she's left you far 
behind 

With a scent of old-world roses, and a fog that ties 

you blind." . „ , , T ,. . 

(—Kudyard Kipling.) 


Archie rose to his legs, and stretched him¬ 
self with a feeling of well being, and peace 
that gave even a good stretching a sensation 
of luxury. 

“ You fellows do what you want, just 
so you don’t wake the Commodore,” he 
said lazily. “ Personally, I’m for another 
shower bath, and a good wallow in a tub, 
too.” 


214 


BEN BO BOHNS 


215 


“ Me, too, sir! ” from Tom, uncurling 
himself from the sofa. “ Room for another 
fellow, Mr. Archie? ” 

“ I should say so, Tom! Now listen, you 
two young heathen! ” to Pat and Don. 
“ Talk all you want to, but for Pete’s 
sake don’t disturb Billy.” 

“ They jus’ can’t do that, Mr. Archie,” 
came the small Commodore’s voice, issuing 
from the tiny, inner cabin of the Captain’s 
snug suite, and it proved just three things: 
first, that Billy was awake; second, that 
Billy had been listening; third, that Billy 
felt much better. 

Archie, his good-looking, brown face 
smiling broadly, and showing how joyously 
he accepted this last fact, immediately dove 
into the inner cabin, where he and Billy 
talked for about five minutes, and very 
delightfully, too, to judge from the happy 
chuckles of the big, young tutor, and the 
enraptured squeals and giggles from the 
ten-year-old, and a sound like unto a fly¬ 
weight member of the “ ring ” at work on a 
well inflated bag, the sound being the result 
of sundry affectionate, if remarkably sturdy 


2l6 


EIGHT BELLS 


punches dealt by Billy with the fist of his 
well arm in the pit of Archie’s tough, flat 
stomach, a sure sign of especial affection 
on the small Commodore’s part. 

“ Why, fellows! ” Archie laughed, abso¬ 
lutely frolicking through the cabin as he 
began shedding his clothes preparatory to 
his bath, “ the kid’s lots and lots better. 
Why, Gee! he can punch me ’til it almost 
hurts. Now, isn’t that dandy? Oh, I am 
so glad, you know! Peel off, Tommy! 
Pitch us those bath towels, please Patsie! 
Thanks! Look here! see if you two fellows 
can’t entertain Billy while Tom and I clean 
up again. Far as that goes, I know I 
couldn’t keep either of you away from our 
Commodore’s bunk, now you know he’s 
awake.” 

“ ’Course you couldn’t, sir! ” the Middy 
grinned. “ But look here! Tell this old 
crazy-head to be good, and not to cut up 
in there with Billy. Why, Mr. Archie! 
that boy doesn’t care what he says, once he 
gets a good start, and I’d hate him to tell 
the Commodore stuff for Gospel that the 
rest of us know is simply romance & la 


BEN BO BOHNS 


217 


Patsie Dean. He started to spin the kid a 
yarn one time, coming down on the ‘Colon,’ 
and say! it beat Arsene Lupin to a stand¬ 
still! ” 

“ Oh, Pat’s been through so much, same 
as the rest of us, that I don’t think there’s 
any danger, now-a-days, of his stringing my 
Commodore,” and the tutor strolled off 
toward the bathroom, towel girt, and 
beautiful in the perfection of his lusty, pink 
and brown skinned huskiness, looking for 
all the world like a tousled headed, boy¬ 
ishly skylarking combination of a very 
young Greek god, and an exulting Prep 
school boy, his bare feet, big, but well 
shaped, assisting the big, sinewy legs above 
them in a most gleeful sort of prancing 
shuffle as he waltzed Tom about in a sheer 
overflow of happiness in time to the shout¬ 
ing of the Midshipman, and the thrilling 
beauty of the small Commodore’s still 
drowsy voice, both singing at the top of 
their lungs, even though Billy was still 
sleepy, Pat and Archie joining in, and Tom, 
too, the song being one dear to the hearts of 
all Annapolis boys the wide world over, the 


218 


EIGHT BELLS 


song that always accompanies the great 
“ snake dance ” at graduation, during June 
week at the Naval Academy, and just now 
the Midshipman, and the others, too, felt 
that no song could better voice the gladness 
they all felt: 

“ ‘ Thank God, we’re out of the wilderness, 
Out of the wilderness, 

Out of the wilderness, 

Thank God, we’re out of the wilderness, 
No more rivers to cross! 

At the end of this spirited bacchanal, 
Archie waltzed “ the Good, Little Devil ” 
into the small bathroom, Tom feeling, 
rightly enough, that now that Billy was 
awake, the original three boys of the “Sa- 
palo” should be allowed a chance to talk just 
among themselves, and, also, Tom hated, 
in these, to him, terribly strange surround¬ 
ings, to get too far away from his grown¬ 
up friend, the tutor, even if said grown-up 
friend was, in his present flow of happiness, 
skylarking like a Prep school boy at the end 
of a victorious football game. Oh, well! 
Archie was only twenty-two, remember. 


BEN BO BOHNS 


219 


Left to themselves, with Tom in the 
shower, and Archie in the tub, Don looked 
at Pat dolefully enough since the tutor's 
word picture of that dark-headed young 
gentleman's transformation. 

Pat giggled, and struck an attitude, 
humming, k la Hugo's most wonderfully 
lovable, heroic, little gamin: 

1 Joi est mon caractere, 

C’est la faute a Voltaire; 

Misere est mon trousseau, 

C’est la faute k . . . 

Rousseau 1 , like the song says? Not by no 
means, Donny! Cest la faute & Mr. Archie, 
if you can locate any misere about this boy, 
what! He is jolly well right, though, of 
course. I say, See my wings, old dear? 
Awfully swanky, what! If I had my 
clothes off, and my shoulders nice and bare, 
like Mr. Archie, and your Pirate Boy just 
now, you’d hear the bally things, Don. 
Flap f flap! just as plain. Fact!” 

“ Wish I had shoulder muscles like you, 
anyhow, Patsie,” spoke up the Commodore 
from his bunk. “ Come on in here, and talk 


220 


EIGHT BELLS 


to me, you fellows, wont you, please? 
Thanks. You got the nicest built legs an’ 
shoulders of any boy at Eton, Pat. Honest 
he has, Don. All the fellows say so.” 

“ Does a chap a pile of good to be husky 
—I don’t think! ” the Bishop’s son grunted, 
speaking very soberly now. “ Husky? 
Why, men dear! I’d give a leg any time to 
be clever like you, Don, or like Mr. Archie, 
or like our Commodore will be one of these 
days. Jolly lot of good my muscle did you 
fellows when you were in trouble, and 
needed me, what! I didn’t help you one 
bit. All I can do is to haul things around, 
and an elephant can do that lots better 
than I.” 

He looked out, solemnly enough now, 
through one of the open ports, but nothing 
of interest showed itself to his brown-eyed 
gaze; only a small fishing fleet of natives, 
and they were doing more idling than fish¬ 
ing, apparently. 

“ Fancy I’m not feeling like yarn spin¬ 
ning,” he said at last, “ but I’ll read to you, 
Billy, if you’ll just curl up on that bunk, 
and give me a place to sit down.” 



BEN BO BOHNS 


221 


“ Oh, will you, Pat? Honest? the over¬ 
joyed Commodore squealed, and he at once 
curled himself into as much of a ball as 
the build of a ten-year-old boy will allow, 
the whole of him quite suggestive of a 
yellow-headed, tousled haired, little arma¬ 
dillo, while Pat smiled down at him, and 
then went back into the cabin in search of 
a book. 

“ Here’s about all I can find, fellows,” 
the Bishop’s boy called, and, a second later, 
he appeared, a copy of Kipling’s poems in 
one hand, and a tiny volume of Aristoph¬ 
anes in the other, in the original Greek. 

Sitting down on the foot of Billy’s bunk, 
while Don took a folding stool near the 
small boy’s head, Pat began to read the 
scene in The Frogs where Bacchus is trying 
to get across the Styx, and has to wait while 
a corpse and its bearers haggle with Charon 
over the passage fee, Charon’s final demand 
for two drachmas so inflaming the indigna¬ 
tion of the corpse that it calls out haughtily 
to those carrying it: “ Bearers, move on! ” 
whereupon, if I remember rightly, old 
Charon immediately drops hisjprice, for, in 


222 


EIGHT BELLS 


a colloquialism of the day, the corpse had 
“ called his bluff.” 

Pat translated from the Greek with a 
fair amount of ease—an English boy in the 
upper forms of one of the great public 
schools knows his Greek to the full as well as 
his American school-boy cousins know some 
modern language, and Billy and the Mid¬ 
shipman chuckled delightedly over the good 
fun of the play, Don, however, enjoying it 
much more than the Commodore as it 
progressed. 

“ Wish you had some more books like 
Treasure Island ,” the ten-year-old sighed 
at last, “ it—it sort of fits in with the Bay of 
Panama, an’ everything down this way, so 
near the line. I say! if you fellows sort of 
boosted me up ’longside this porthole above 
my head, would I see anything nice, or 
interestin’, or somethin’? ” 

Don rose to his legs, and glanced out to 
sea. 

“ Why, we’ll lift you up if you say so, 
Commodore,” he smiled, “ but I give you 
my word there’s nothing to watch. Only a 
little native fishing fleet, and they’re so 




BEN BO BOHNS 


223 


filled with poco tiempo, and mahana por la 
mahana that if they catch a fish to-day 
they’ll be doing wonders. Not that they’ll 
worry; that crowd never does, you know.” 

“ Cheer up, Don! ” from Pat, peering 
over the Middy’s shoulder, “ here comes 
another cajuca to join the fleet—we’re 
off Taboga, Commodore—and I say! that 
chap with the paddle must be a lineal 
descendant of Jehu, the son of Nimshi, 
for 1 he drives furiously.’ Never saw a 
cajuca handled so well.” 

“ Not even by Ezabelita? ” from Don. 
“ No? ” 

“ Aw, shut up! ” a bit sullenly, from the 
Bishop’s boy. 

“ Is it worth being hoisted up to see, 
Pat? ” Billy asked. 

“ No, Commodore, it isn’t. In the first 
place, friend Jehu has slowed down to 
normality, and, in the second place, as you 
jolly well know, young ’un, one cajuca looks 
like every other cajuca, so that’s that. 
That crowd down there hasn’t enough spirit 
to bag a guinea pig, let alone a catch of fish.' 

“ Well, it’s a peaceful looking lot, Patsie,” 



224 


EIGHT BELLS 


the Middy sighed, “ and so I take off my 
hat to them,” and he waved his duck cap 
to the fishing fleet that was now dropping 
a’stern, and grinned a cheerful, rather 
freckled grin, and the boatmen below him, 
their cajucas dancing in the gunboat’s 
wake, laughed up at him, and waved their 
straw hats with a laughing, perfectly 
friendly: “ Buenos dies, Senor! Viva el 
muchacho Americano! Ohe, lafoula! ” and 
the husky Middy laughed, and blushed a 
little, too. 

The “Princeton” began to swing around 
the island in a big circle, standing off con¬ 
siderably, however, in order to avoid shoals, 
and, Taboga being a sizable island, their 
circling took time, but the Captain had de¬ 
cided that should Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong- 
Fat be, by any chance, still hiding in its 
midway jungle, he would let the Chinaman 
know that his Blue Jackets were very much 
awake. Having circled the island, however, 
he planned making for the anchorage 
between Flemenco and Panama City, or, 
if the tide suited, one of the Pacific Mail’s 
berths at La Boca (now-a-days, Balboa). 


BEN BO BOHNS 


225 


“ Say! Bet those brown boys will be 
surprised to see us again in the next half 
hour, as we steam through them a second 
time after our swing ’round the island,” 
Don laughed, still waving his white cap 
through the port, and calling friendly gibes 
in none too perfect Spanish to a husky 
fisher boy of fifteen, who grinned, and 
splashed water up at him with his paddle, 
all in lazy good nature. “ They’ll think we 
are following them, fellows.” 

“ Not if they know my opinion of ’em, 
Donny,” Pat smiled, reseating himself close 
to the small Commodore’s feet. “ Why 
should we want to waste our time, ’specially 
with a half sick Commodore aboard, chas¬ 
ing, ’round Taboga after a lot of poco 
tiempos? Why, Gosh! I’d just about as 
lief chase the ‘Flyin’ Dutchman’ or Ben Bo 
Bohns—jolly sight rather, on the whole. 
We’d at least not go to sleep chasing old 
Ben.” 

“ Who's Ben? ” in immediately complete 
interest, from the Commodore, sitting bolt 
upright without the least assistance—they 
were doubling the ‘Moro’ by this time. 



226 


EIGHT BELLS 


li You’d probably find him within the 
upper left-hand corner of Patsie’s head, 
Commodore,” the Midshipman grunted, 
with some grimness. 

“ No such a thing! ” with considerable 
vehemence, from the Bishop’s boy. “ He 
didn’t really live, I guess, Billy, but he’s a tra¬ 
dition, sort of, like ‘The Flyin’ Dutchman,’ 
or * the Ancient Mariner,’ or folks like that, 
and lots of times there’s a certain amount of 
truth at the beginnin’ of these old tales, 
my Pater says, even though the tales them¬ 
selves are all twisted out of the truth finally. 
They must have some sort of a beginnin’, 
you know. I know Pve always been awfully 
keen for these old sea myths, and I fancy I 
like this one, about ‘ Ben Bo Bohns’ best of 
the lot; it’s short enough to grip a fellow 
from the beginnin’ to the end, and you 
don’t have to push it, it pushes you, you 
know. Chap named More wrote it— 
Brookes More—my Pater knows him. It’ll 
give you a thrill all right, Commodore. 
Really. Do I know it all by heart? Well, 
rather! Chap can’t forget a thing like that. 
Hope he publishes it some day. No, a boy 




BEN BO BOHNS 


227 


just can’t forget stuff like this thing of 
More, no more than he’d forget * The Mary 
Gloster,’ or ‘ The Galley Slave,’ or 1 If ’— 
though the Pater holds out that his friend’s 
work is heaps more like Lord Tennyson’s in 
most things—sort of misty. Old tapes¬ 
tries, you know. Awfully jolly, and old, 
and perfectly rippin colors—dim and dusky 
like a Millais, and yet as packed-jammed 
full of colors as that Fortuny at my Grand¬ 
mother’s — Lady Emily Tollimglower; you 
know, Billy— gorgeous! but, oh, I don’t 
know, fellows! silvered sort of spider web 
over it all. My Pater’s right, too. That 
is the way lots of his friend’s stuff is. And 
jolly! Well, rather. Last year the Head, 
at Eton, had some of us readin’ ‘ The 
Atalanta’ of Swinburne, and the work of 
this friend of my Pater makes me feel just 
the same as when we boys struck that chorus 
in 4 The Atalanta,’ ‘ When the hounds of 
Spring are on Winter’s traces ’—you know. 
Makes a boy’s body feel hot all over, and 
hungry for everything that’s only half 
known, and yet you want it just no end. 
An’ I say! there’s a cloud, sort of dank, and 




228 


EIGHT BELLS 


wetty mist, and all pearl, an’ it makes a boy 
feel like he’s in that cloud, his face, anyhow, 
and his skin feels wet with it, and it’s only 
make-believe in a book you’re readin’, 
but—well, you chaps just listen to this one 
little bit of More’s stuff, will you? ” 

“ 1 Oh, what is the reason God willeth 
That nothing shall ever dissever 
The last of lost Eden from Lilith— 
Lost Eden surrounded, 

Secreted and bounded 
By river and mountain and sea? 

“ But ‘ Ben Bo Bohns,’ Patsie! ” from 
Billy, fast becoming exasperated. 

“ Oh, him? ” Pat smiled, though his 
darkly browned skin was a bit flushed 
with eagerness — he was a real musician, 
remember, and no musician living can 
help loving Brookes More any more than 
he can help loving Swinburne—“ Why, 
I’ll tell you right off, Commodore. Right-o! 
I say, Don! Take that yellow head of yours 
out of that port, and listen.” 

“ Of course I will,” the Middy laughed, 
drawing in his head at once. “ And I really 



BEN BO BOHNS 


229 


want to hear, Patsie, if it’s going to be any¬ 
thing like that ‘ Lost Eden ’ thing just now. 
Don’t know what that meant, but the words 
all sort of sing . I only looked out, anyway, 
to see where we were. We’re almost ’round 
the island, and I bet our lazy fishing fleet’s 
off our forward port quarter. Go ahead, 
Patsie! That’s a good fellow.” 

And Pat Dean, leaning a little forward, 
his heavy set, brown skinned, young body 
alert, and gaining tenseness as his recitation 
progressed in the plain, straightforward 
way that is one of its greatest charms, began, 
his eyes looking out to the blue sky, and the 
distant sea line on the horizon, all he could 
see through the open port above Billy’s 
head, while the “Princeton’s” siren screamed 
out a warning, probably to the fishing fleet 
now close under her bows, its wailing 
shrillness a first rate accompaniment to— 

The Nautical Ballad of Ben Bo Bohns 

“ 1 Ho! Ben Bo Bohns of the Will o’ the 
Wisp, 

He sails to the phantom west! 

For thirteen years and thirteen months 


230 


EIGHT BELLS 


He’s chased that phantom quest! 
Quoth Ben, ‘ We’ve sailed from the rim 
of the east, 

From the port of Kalkut Town, 

And steered our ship on the shining sea 
To the west where the day goes down. 

“ ‘ For thirteen years and thirteen months 
And thirteen days to the dot, 

We’ve steered to the west, but the west 
remains 

That same far distant spot. 

Crowd on all sail, you lubber crew! 

With thirteen sails to the breeze, 

In the thirteenth hour of the thirteenth 
day 

We’ll sail the Western Seas! — 


What ails you now, my Bos’n Bold, 
What trouble is in your eye? ’ 

‘ O Captain Ben, again and again 
That wizard ship goes by; 

Her hulk is red and her crew is dead, 
And she’s weather-beat with age; 

She scuds in the gale, with never a sail, 
Where the western billows rage. 

‘ Crowd on more sail, we’ll never fail; 

’Tis the Flying-Dutchman ship; 



BEN BO BOHNS 


231 


She leads the way to Phantom Bay 
Where the western waters dip.’ 

‘ O Captain Ben,’ said the helmsman then, 

1 There’s another ship that’s queer! ’ 

‘ Have never a fear,’ quoth Ben Bo Bohns, 

‘ Tis The Ancient Marineer; 

‘ ’Tis the ship of The Ancient Marineer, 
She sails the fading west, 

Clap on all sail, in calm or gale, 

She leads us to our quest. 

Then in a fright the Midshipmite, 

O Captain, Ben Bo Bohns, 

In the first monsoon, if you sing that 
tune, 

We’ll go to Davie Jones.’ ” 

Was it a faint lapping of warm Pacific 
waters, or maybe the slight, pulsing slush 
of a cajuca’s paddle so close below the 
curving, white stern, or was it only in their 
own minds—an echo of their thrillingly 
pounding hearts, answering beat for beat to 
the witchery of the poem’s sweepingly vivid 
word pigments? The boys could have 
heard anything now, anything at all, trust¬ 
ing their actual, every-day senses for just 
nothing, and their wide, grave, young 


232 


EIGHT BELLS 


eyes were full of their breathlessly robust 
romance, called up by the rhyme of the 
sea yarn, and the rhythm of it; a modern 
Saga. The great, lumberingly high-pooped, 
old “ Dutchman,’’ wind screaming, scream¬ 
ing, screaming through her ghostly rigging, 
her gaping ports all a’glare with the evil, 
red lights within her rotting hold. And 
that—that yonder! The weather-tossed, 
salt-rimed weariness of Coleridge’s dream 
ship, scudding crazily, with darting, pur¬ 
poseless swiftness before the wind, forever 
paying a never ending penalty for the dead 
“Albatross,” plunging far over the choppy, 
gray-green waters of the distant horizon on 
her lonely way to still other seas. The ship 
under them a graceful, white steeled Ameri¬ 
can gunboat? Never! Barque o’ Dreams. 
Frigate of Fancies. A galleon laden with a 
young boy’s wish-fulfillments. Romance. 
Some one of Olaf’s fleet, maybe; or perhaps 
the “ Golden Flind,” or “ the Vengeance,” 
with the golden headed beauty of a youth¬ 
fully stalwart Amyas Leigh of Burrough 
tramping up there, above decks, his blue 
eyes steely, peering through the lashing 


BEN BO BOHNS 


233 


spume for the foamy, sweeping approach of 
the mighty, ill-fated Armada, under the 
golden flag of royal Spain. Was there 
really the faintest grating of water-softened 
wood against the steel plates at the gun¬ 
boat’s stern, or was it the thundering crash 
of the dreadful “ Dutchman’s ” spars as 
grim, old Van der Decken brought her about 
for another heart-breaking attempt at doub¬ 
ling the cape? Some real menace reaching 
out a cold, wet hand to lay, in deadly 
fashion, on those warm, healthy, young 
bodies, even within their floating, steel 
fortress? or the fanciful mirage of a great 
sea yarn, told by a really great artist? 

Pat continued, his voice warm, eager, 
fine; every ounce of his manly boyishness 
sweeping him along in his complete earnest¬ 
ness, Don and Billy following wide-eyed, 
their lips slightly parted, not just hearing a 
legend of the sea, but, through the rhyming 
lilt, seeing the hardy Skipper, the dubious 
Boson, the frightened, distraught, little 
Midshipman, and feeling the sting of the 
wind-swept, salty water as it whipped their 
healthy, young faces: 


234 


EIGHT BELLS 


44 4 Fear not my lad, ’tis not that bad, 

We’ll welcome breeze or gale; 

If a phantom ship can weather the storm, 
The Will o’ the Wisp can’t fail.’ — 
They stretched the sheets till the cordage 
^ sang, 

The crazy crew sang, too;— 

The crazy ship with a shudder and a 
moan, 

To the west like an arrow flew. 

44 4 Far, far to the west, on that strange 
quest, 

They sail the Western Sea, 

To join those other phantom ships,— 
God save that phantom three! 

O mates beware, foul days or fair, 
Beware of Ben Bo Bohns! 

For if you see that awful three 
You’ll sup with Davie Jones.’ ” 

A shriek, the indescribably horrible kind 
caused by a very loud, high, adolescent 
scream of fear, choked off into a bubbling 
wail by blood suddenly entering the throat, 
and the boys were all on their feet, sweat 
breaking out over their bodies at once. 
Even Billy, his hurt shoulder forgotten in 
his horror, stood, his small, bare feet on the 





BEN BO BOHNS 


235 


cabin floor, his well arm clinging to Don. 
There was a stampede of running feet from 
the wardroom, and the sound of the small 
Marine guard tumbling down the narrow, 
iron companion from the deck above, and a 
moment later the outer door of the Cap¬ 
tain’s quarters burst open, to show that 
officer himself, with four Marines, and the 
entire wardroom mess close at his heels, 
the Marines with their sidearms clear. 

“You stay with the Commodore, Don,” 
Pat yelled, and dashed out into the larger 
cabin to join the others, while the Midship¬ 
man, his face set, and very white, simply 
took the small boy in his arms and hugged 
him protectingly, and Billy cried bitterly, 
his face hidden in the older lad’s shoulder. 

The boys of the “ Sapalo ” all felt dazed, 
but not so the Captain of the “ Princeton.” 

“ Where’s young Spenway? ” he de¬ 
manded curtly. 

“Mr. Archie? ” from all three boys at 
once. “ Why, he’s taking a bath, sir. So’s 
Tom.” 

“ If he was doing that, he’d be out here, 
the same l as we,” the Captain snapped. 


236 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Here! Let’s have a look in this bath¬ 
room of mine, and let’s be lively, too,” 
and he sprang to the bathroom door, but 
it was locked with a bolt on the inside. 
“ Here! ” the old officer called, “ you 
Marines get that open, and make it lively— 
on the hop! ” and almost at once four husky 
shoulders flung themselves against the white 
enamel door, and it gave, with a sharp, 
tearing sound. The port, directly over one 
of the twin screws at the stern, was wide 
open, the heavy glass in its metal casing 
having been entirely unscrewed. On the 
white tiled floor, from the shower to the 
port, and on the side of the small tub, that 
stood a good eighteen inches above the floor 
on four wrought iron legs, a good deal of 
fresh, warm blood was smeared, and tracked, 
showing plainly enough where a pair of bare 
heels had been dragged, and, too, the clear 
imprint of the toes and ball of two very big, 
bare feet—undoubtedly Archie’s. Archie 
had taken into the bathroom, along with his 
supply of towels, a suit of white pajamas, 
intending to slip them on after his bath, and 
curl up by Billy for a nap. The coat of 


• BEN BO BOHNS 


237 


these pajamas was hanging from a peg, but 
the pants were missing. 

“Of course they got through that un¬ 
screwed port,” the Captain said angrily 
to his first officer, “ but it must have been 
an uncommonly tight fit for that yellow¬ 
headed youngster’s big body. Hardly see 
how he could have done it. Still, since 
nobody came out of this door, it was bolted 
on the inside, through the port, they must 
have slid. Have her hove-to at once, Mr. 
Seldon; put a Marine guard on duty in this 
cabin of mine to take care of these boys— 
No, no! ” very testily, “ you can’t help, 
and you won’t help, and I’m not going to 
have anything happen to the rest of you, so 
that’s flat. Place your guard, Lieutenant 
Pokey! ” to a First Lieutenant of Marines. 
“ The rest of us, gentlemen, are all for the 
deck. Seldon, I want you and Harcourt 
on the bridge with me, pronto ,” and out the 
Captain strode, his officers at his heels, 
leaving two very young, very brown-faced 
Marines on guard mount, one of whom, a 
boy of not more than eighteen, after a 
briefly whispered conference with his mate, 


238 


EIGHT BELLS 


left that young gentleman very grimly on 
guard, and, with a smile on his boyishly 
smooth, deeply tanned face, went over to 
Don, saluted, and then relieved him of the 
still sobbing, little Commodore, and, taking 
the small boy into his own arms, comforted 
him with the skill of a woman, and, seated 
at the Captain’s mahogany table, with one 
wary eye on the door, he stuck innumerable 
pins into the Captain’s blotter, and said 
it was to be a football game, and that Billy’s 
side had the kick-off. 

Don, more grateful than he could say 
to the tact of this very youthful “ Devil 
Dog,” walked doggedly into the bathroom 
and stuck his sleek, yellow head out of the 
porthole, looking down at the churning of 
the screws, and the rippling wake behind the 
white-hulled “ Princeton,” but he suddenly 
withdrew his head, his face a sickly, grayish 
white, for the gunboat had come about, 
and was now traveling almost exactly over 
her course of a few minutes before, once 
more heading for the bobbing, jolly, little 
fishing fleet, and there, on the surface of the 
water, a bit to one side of the present lane 


BEN BO BOHNS 


239 


the ship was making, rose and fell the deep, 
smooth swells of the Bay of Panama, and 
it seemed to the Midshipman that the 
sweels, in certain spots, held a dull, painfully 
red stain. 


CHAPTER XXV 
WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 

“ A sinuous monster in there pent. 

Pervading the sinister air — 

The breath of a dragon, a serpent 
That fetters the life that is there?” 

(—Brookes More.) 

“Hast thou found me, O mine enemy?” 

(— 1st Kings, 22, v. 21.) 

What had happened? Simply this: Every 
inhabited island in the Bay of Panama 
harbored at least one of “ Mr. Manderin’s ” 
confederates, these gentlemen occupying all 
manner of social stations, from a tooth¬ 
less, repulsively hideous leper on the 
coast, at Palaseco, and a darkly tressed, 
young lady of rather dusky complexion and 
undoubted charm, much given to crimson 
double hybiscus blossoms worn most fetch- 
ingly behind one tiny ear (a terrible coquette 
among any young American Blue Jackets 
who now and then landed for a few hours 
“ Liberty ” among the Pearl Islands), to a 
tall, ascetic looking Padre in a mouldy, 


240 


WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


241 


black soutane, who dwelt perpetually in the 
city of Panama, and, also, perpetually under 
the grim displeasure of his Bishop on the 
Plaza del Cathedral, in the Episcopal 
Palace. As to Taboga, that little mountain 
island fairly bristled with confederates, at 
least a dozen members of “ Mr. Manderin’s” 
own particular Tong being among the 
number. But closer than all the rest, was 
the junior partner in one of the finest 
Chinese importing houses in Panama, a 
young Chinaman of twenty-six, a Manchu, 
about six feet two inches tall, grave and 
courteous of manner, splendidly handsome 
as to face, in an Asiatic way, and most 
glorious as to physique. He was quite a 
philosopher, a high-bred, cultured, young 
fellow, and he and Kum-Sing were as close 
as father and son, and the fat, old man had, 
also, done most material service to his father 
during the Boxer unpleasantness. This big, 
finely made youngster, twirling the little 
cap of his high social position by its red 
button on the top, received the relay mes¬ 
sages as to the information Pat had given 
on his return from his island with Ezabe- 


242 


EIGHT BELLS 


lita, and, after a night spent in the dense 
jungle, near the hut of the leper at Palaseco, 
he and the fat, old Kum-Sing moved 
courageously about the task they had set 
themselves. 

Lying flat on their stomachs at the foot of 
the Black Cross above Ancon cove, on that 
peak of Taboga, they watched the “ Prince¬ 
ton ” making her leisurely way toward the 
city, via Taboga itself, then, joining the 
small fishing fleet of four pangas, manned 
entirely by henchmen of Kum-Sing-Hong- 
Chong-Fat, they pulled out quite close to 
the approaching gunboat, fished stolidly 
as she passed, and then, seeing, as they knew 
perfectly well they would, a painter hanging 
from one of the port-holes at the “ Prince¬ 
ton’s” stern, left there most obediently by 
a spry, little Japanese mess-boy, a nephew 
of Kum-Sing’s friend in Yokohama, they 
grabbed it, the panga wallowing crazily in 
the wake from the gunboat’s screws, and 
the young sage, Liang Fu, climbed that 
painter like a monkey, while the placid, old 
gentleman below him, the panga always 
hidden by the graceful, yacht-like curve of 


WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


243 


the “ Princeton’s ” stern, kept her away from 
the thrashing of the screws by the most 
expert use of a boat-hook. This had all 
been planned the moment the gunboat had 
received her sailing orders from the Ameri¬ 
can Minister at Panama, at which time 
“ Mr. Manderin ” at once knew his plans 
had missed fire, and that his crew at the far- 
off island were done for. Being, however, too 
the full as great a philosopher as the young 
Liang Fu, this worthy, old gentleman in no 
way troubled his head about them, that is 
with one exception. Tom had been false 
to him, and Tom should pay the penalty, 
and the penalty was to be caught, wounded, 
and then nursed back to health by the 
dreadful, old leper at Palaseco, the open 
wound the boy was to receive being entirely 
able to admit the dreadful infection that is 
so much worse than death. Besides, of 
what further use was Tom? The old man’s 
carefully laid plans, nursed so patiently for 
the last few years, were quite ruined now, 
and, too, Tom was fourteen, very nearly 
fifteen, and his boy voice would break 
almost any day, so even the pleasure of 


244 


EIGHT BELLS 


his singing—and it had been a keen pleas¬ 
ure—could no longer be counted on. As to 
possibly being killed himself, that never 
had worried Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat in 
the past, and it certainly did not worry 
him now. One thing only was certain, Tom 
should pay the penalty. Kum-Sing, and 
the good-looking, gravely courteous, young 
Liang Fu had talked it all over very quietly 
over a really delicious cup of tea, and Liang 
Fu said, with a most gracious bow, that he 
was most eternally honored to be of service 
to his honorable friend, the mighty bene¬ 
factor of his illustrious father, and the old 
fellow, with a courteously bland, little 
smile, and a gentle wave of one fat hand, 
assured Liang Fu that such a speech must 
greatly rejoice the ashes of that young man’s 
exalted parent, now gone to the land of the 
golden dragons and peacocks, there to rest 
among his glorious ancestors, and that, 
furthermore, he counted Liang Fu one of the 
five most perfect gentlemen he had ever 
had the extreme happiness of knowing, 
the other four being, respectively, his 
friend in Yokohama, a world-famous psy- 



WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


245 


chiatrist in Zurich, of whom he was very 
fond indeed, a diplomat in Paris, and an 
Anglican Bishop at whose palace he had 
spent many delightful weeks. After this 
very pleasant talk, then, both gentlemen 
betook themselves, by an overland route 
to Palaseco, and arranged with the leper for 
Tom’s reception, and incarceration. 

Once in the bathroom (the “ Princeton” 
had been a private yacht once, and was just 
a converted gunboat, and her stern ports were 
simply huge, a regular eyesore to the rest 
of the Navy), Liang Fu measured the space 
under the bath-tub with a practical eye, and 
decided that his lean body could be flattened 
between it and the tiled floor, and in this 
uncomfortable position he waited placidly 
enough, with the patience handed down to 
him by centuries of Orientals who had one 
and all cultivated this virtue to the last 
degree. He knew perfectly well that, sooner 
or later, Tom would come in, and he and 
Tom knew each other very well, both in 
China, and here. In fact it was Liang Fu 
whose skilled musicianship had perfected 
Tom’s beautiful, boy voice in the difficult 


246 


EIGHT BELLS 


coloratura passages in With Verdure Clad } 
from “ Mr. Manderin’s ” favorite oratorio, 
The Creation. He avoided bringing any 
firearms on board with him—Tom’s wound 
should be an open cut—but he did bring along 
a tiny, steel knife, with an ivory handle, 
a knife intended, really, for an ink eraser. 

When Archie came in first, and, tossing 
off his bath towel from around his thighs, 
very coolly turned on the hot water in the 
tub, young Liang Fu simply turned his 
head very much to one side, and observed 
that young gentleman’s ankles, and hairy 
shins with mild interest. Tom, however, 
who had followed the tutor, this representa¬ 
tive of the old Manchu dynasty watched 
like a cat. He wished it was Tom who was 
to get into the tub, and Archie who was to 
take the shower, for the shower was in a 
sort of closet arrangement, with a three- 
quarter door of slats to it. Still, all it 
required was patience, patience! 

Archie wallowed joyously in the hot bath, 
soaping his big body all over at least a dozen 
times for the sheer fun of the good feel of it 
to his brown skin, but since Tom had 


WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


247 


finished his shower, and was eyeing the tub 
rather wistfully, he climbed out, drew some 
fresh water, and, laughing, Archie then dived 
into the shower closet, shutting the slat door 
behind him, and slipping home the small, 
brass bolt. 

With Tom stretched out in the tub, 
rather sleepy from the pleasant warmth 
of the water, and Archie running the shower 
full tilt, with cheerfully noisy splashings, 
his broad back to the door, Liang Fu 
squirmed from under the tub, shot-to a 
small pair of outer bolts to the shower bath, 
put there to hold the door securely shut in 
times of storm, and then grabbed Tom 
under both his wet armpits, and the 
youngster, recognizing the young sage at 
once, screamed in heart-stopping fear, and 
Liang Fu buried his little knife blade in the 
boy’s rather thick neck, skillfully avoiding 
all big vessels, but making a hideous, bleed¬ 
ing wound all the same, so that blood 
spurted in a stream from the gashed flesh, 
and oozed out over the brown skin of the 
boy’s throat, and, a second later, in a gush 
from the lad’s still half-open mouth. Then 


248 


EIGHT BELLS 


with Archie trying to force the three-quarter 
length door of the shower closet, which 
held well, Liang Fu dragged Tom to the 
porthole, the youngster’s bare heels scraping 
the tiled floor, and pushed him—Tom had 
lost consciousness—head first into the 
capable arms of the waiting Kum-Sing- 
Hong-Chong-Fat, and then followed him, 
going down the painter with a rush, and, 
as he knew he would, finding Kum-Sing 
tranquilly seated on a dirty sack, in which 
sack was a bleeding boy, about which with 
his plump, long-nailed fingers, he was artis¬ 
tically piling a huge catch of fish. The rest 
of the fishing fleet immediately closed in, 
the distance from the “Princeton” ever 
widening, and Liang Fu dropped anchor for 
a moment, and took up his line again, lit a 
short, corncob pipe, smiled at Kum-Sing- 
Hong-Chong-Fat, and that capable, old 
gentleman slipped out of his few clothes, 
and dived, with the utmost placidity, over 
the side, swimming with the perfect ease 
of a Kanaka, for yards and yards at a time 
completely under water. It was a mile and 
a quarter to the point of Taboga on which 


WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


249 


he purposed to land, but double that dis¬ 
tance would not have bothered him one bit. 
Another panga now joined the fleet, it, like 
the rest, all ready for fishing, and as soon 
as it did so Liang Fu pulled out from the 
rest, the newly arrived boat still making the 
fleet count four, and stooping down, deftly 
set to work a small motor auxiliary so that 
his panga now raced for Taboga like a 
streak. When the “Princeton” finally 
doubled on her course, there were the four 
pangas of the fishing fleet as when she had 
first steamed past them, and by that time 
Liang Fu, Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat 
(whom the young sage had picked up), and 
the bloody sack were all on the beach, 
for it had taken a good many minutes for the 
Captain of the gunboat to confer in his 
cabin, have the bathroom door broken down 
by the Marine guard, and then get up to the 
bridge, and have his boat swung ’round in 
her course. 

With Archie, however, it was different. 
He had, in about a minute, or two, suc¬ 
ceeded in climbing over the door, and then, 
slipping his legs into his white pajama pants, 


250 


EIGHT BELLS 


and knotting their cord around his waist, 
he had shot himself, with considerable 
squirming, and no little pain, through the 
open porthole, head first—he was stouter 
than Liang Fu—and only by a miracle 
avoiding being killed by the busy screws. 
One of the pangas picked him up. They 
were a dull, native lot, this particular set of 
Kum-Sing’s henchmen, and they had no 
instructions about what to do if a very big, 
yellow-headed, young fellow, with almost no 
clothes on, splashed overboard among them, 
so one of them yanked him into his panga, 
whereupon Archie, shaking the water from 
his thick, golden crop, and out of his eyes, 
saw the fifth panga, with its motor auxiliary, 
racing shoreward. Feeling quite desperate, 
he grabbed an oar, crashed it down on the 
head of his rescuer, tossed him overboard, 
and, grabbing the other oar, set to work, 
while big tears filled his blue eyes, his lower 
lip caught between his white teeth, his 
face set and wretched, but his big muscled 
body swinging well between his knees with 
every deep stroke of his oars. 

Nobody chased him, because everybody 



WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 251 

knew that the “ Princeton ” was racing back 
under full steam, and the one safe thing for 
the fishing fleet was to sit tight where they 
were. As for Archie, he simply made for 
the shore of Taboga. What he would do 
there, he did not know, nor did he much 
care. Billy was safe on board the gunboat 
with the other boys, but Tom, the youngster 
who had really saved them all, and whom he 
had so gladly promised to be a big brother 
to, Tom was in the completely merciless 
hands of Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat. 

He tumbled out of the panga before she 
grounded, and stumbled and splashed 
through the surf, knee deep, toward the 
beach. Neither Chinaman had any fire¬ 
arms about him, but Archie, of course, did 
not know that. If they shot him, well! 
he’d done his best for Tom. He’d never 
understood until now how much he loved 
that heavy set, brown-skinned, brown¬ 
headed “ Pirate Boy,” with his wide mouth, 
and frankly turned up, freckled nose. 
Why, any man would love to be pals with 
such a kid brother! 

Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat was pulling 


252 


EIGHT BELLS 


Tom from the sack by means of his sturdy, 
bare legs, and the boy was now conscious, 
the wound in his throat clotting, and the 
plump, thick-set body was shivering. He 
was crying a little, too. He was too weak, 
and his wounded throat made him feel too 
sick to fight much, but he struggled the 
very best he could, and he was, luckily, a 
very strong boy, now nearly fifteen. And 
“ Mr. Manderin ” allowed him to scuffle, 
just as a sleek cat plays with a mouse. 

Archie, panting, wild-eyed, furious, sent 
an oar hurtling through the air, and it 
struck the fat, old fellow on the side of his 
head, and for a while he was stunned, drop¬ 
ping to the sand in a heap. But then, him¬ 
self, like Archie, now stripped to his waist, 
Liang Fu sprang on the tutor, while Archie’s 
feet and ankles were still hidden in the 
warm water. The big, twenty-two-year-old 
American stumbled, and then went down, 
the taller man on top of him. 

Over and over again Archie broke the 
Chinaman’s hold, but never for long, only 
he did manage to stagger out of the water 
onto the sand, the Chinaman clinging to 


WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


253 


him, and there they fought their fight, a 
fight of primitive, sledge-hammer blows as 
in the days of the mighty Nieblungen, 
changing as often as possible from boxing to 
clinching, and Liang Fu at last, not only 
striking, but tearing, clawing at the firm, 
hard, young flesh under Archie’s smooth, 
deeply tanned skin, digging viciously into 
his body where the yellow-headed, young 
fellow’s straining muscles pitted into white 
dimples on his heavy, brown shoulders, 
and back, and chest. 

Sweat, streams of it, tumbled over 
Archie’s superb, brownly naked body, his 
sinews writhing, twisting under the skin, 
bare to his waist; streams of sweat glistened 
in great drops on the satiny shoulders, and 
drenching the deep breast, and the heaving, 
panting, laboring of his heavy stomach, 
whose muscles, under its tough, flat solidity, 
bunched themselves into a racing series of 
knots and cords in the horrible, clamoring 
need for air, and more air in this fight to a 
finish. Chest muscles, abdominal muscles, 
both labored terribly to give that straining, 
agonized, desperate, young body the pre- 


254 


EIGHT BELLS 


cious breath it needed if it was to live, and if 
Tom was to live. But Liang Fu was just 
a shade the stronger, and very nearly as 
skillful. His breath scorched against 
Archie’s wet face, their bodies, breasts, 
stomachs, legs, crushed, and twisted against 
each other. Pelicans screamed and flapped 
above them, their shrill cries sounding to 
Archie like ribald taunts. The hot sand 
flew from under his bare heels, and spurted 
from between his toes like gritty powder, 
and in spite of that pair of great, thrashing 
arms and straining shoulders, millions of 
tiny gnats enveloped him, clinging to his 
slippery, sweat-soaked body in a vast haze 
once his broken skin showed its trickle of 
warm, healthy blood. The deeply fluffy 
yellow hair on his head was tangled and 
clotted with blood from an oozing wound, 
the scalp torn by Liang Fu’s clawing, 
merciless fingers, and battering fists; the 
muscles in his big legs twitched painfully 
under the smoothly brown skin, the hair 
on them matted, not only with blood from 
many small stabs where Liang Fu had cut 
his flesh with his small knife before he 


WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


255 


finally wrenched it from his clenched fist, 
but, also, with flying, stinging sand, and the 
sweat from his own tortured body. But he 
fought on, furiously, brutally, violently, 
taking all the severe punishment that came 
to him like some young Spartan, and more 
than returning it, no thought of his boxing, 
or wrestling days back at college now left 
in his rumpled, golden head; only an 
agonizingly clear, ringing knowledge that 
he was trying to kill this other man, so that 
this other man could not kill him, and, 
through him, so dreadfully kill his adopted, 
boy brother, Tom. 

At last, Archie, his heart pounding against 
his side, his head throbbing, the taste of his 
own blood now in his laboring throat, 
succeeded in getting the Chinaman’s neck 
in the crotch of one big arm, in a strangle¬ 
hold. Liang Fu, slowly strangling now, 
his neck crushing almost to the breaking 
point, screamed chokingly, and then became 
limp under Archie’s arm, and Archie tossed 
him, in a queer, broken heap, on the sand, 
and as he did so he saw, though the blood 
in his blue eyes made vision very misty, 


256 EIGHT BELLS 

Kum-Sing-Hong-Chong-Fat lift himself 
rather dizzily to his feet, gaze out to sea for 
a second, and then, picking up the same oar 
that had stunned him, lift it above his head, 
and advance on Tom, and the fourteen- 
year-old, too utterly used to being always 
abjectly afraid of the fat, old Chinaman, 
just crouched back on his bare haunches, his 
sun-tanned, freckled face turned up implor¬ 
ingly, big tears tumbling down the bridge of 
his snubbed nose, his whole body, every inch 
of its plumply solid young flesh, quivering. 

Archie called upon the remaining strength 
he possessed, and with every muscle in his 
big body crying out with agonizing pain, 
he crashed down upon Kum-Sing-Hong- 
Chong-Fat, wrenched the oar from him, and 
then, one horrified look at the old Asiatic’s 
round face, and the oar dropped from his 
hands. 

Kum-Sing’s yellow, old face was very 
placid, a really sweet smile showed under his 
long, drooping mustache, but below the 
saffron-tinted skin a strange pallor had 
appeared, and the slanting, almond eyes 
were glazing. He actually chuckled, though 


WHEN EAST MEETS WEST 


25 7 


in his own peculiar, gentle way, but he 
swayed a bit uncertainly, too. He had 
read the dismay on Archie’s good-looking, 
boyish face, and was clearly amused by it. 

“ My esteemed friend in Yokohama has 
passed on to me an old Samurai saying, 
my dear boy,” he said, quite gently, “ and 
it is to this effect: To die with honor is to 
live without dishonor. And, do you know? 
I have always found the Japanese a very 
clever people, if a bit superficial at times. 
I believe them to be quite right in this 
instance, at all events. I took it the 
moment I came to, and realized you were 
killing Liang Fu. I always have carried 
two of them about with me—little, fat pills, 
you know. By the time your friend gets 
here,—See! two of his cutters are only 
about a quarter of a mile off shore now— 
‘ Mr. Manderin’,” with his quaint, fat, old 
old smile, “ ‘ Mr. Manderin ’ will be with 
his honorable ancestors in the land of the 
Golden Dragons and the Sacred Peacocks,” 
and again he smiled his old, rather slow 
smile, pleasantly, tranquilly, and then 
crumpled up at Archie’s feet. 



CHAPTER XXVI 
ANCHORS AWEIGH! 


“ Farewell, and adieu to you, fair Spanish ladies, 
Farewell, and adieu to you, ladies of Spain!” 

(—Rudyard Kipling.) 

The good ship “ Colon,” once-upon-a-time 
referred to by that late-lamented, old salt, 
Mr. Alfred Simmons, as “ a tidy craft, 
though groggy,” was most ably demonstrat¬ 
ing said “ grogginess ” as she slung the 
heavy, black iron plates of her nose into a 
head-on, mighty Caribbean swell, the light 
from Toro ever twinkling fainter behind 
her, Manzanilla point a vast, towering 
shadow off her starboard beam. She had 
been delayed in sailing, owing to the special 
train that carried that august lady, Mrs. 
van Zandt, being very late indeed, and so 
night had set in, with a heavy breeze— 
dear, buffeting, old Trades!—sweeping in 
from the old Spanish Main, always in our 
hearts as the adventure chest of the open 
sea, making the liner pitch in long, crooked 


258 



ANCHORS AWEIGH! 


259 


sweeps through the salty white-caps, from 
stem to stern. Her red and green lights 
twinkled out to the tropic night, and the 
stars twinkled back at them from overhead. 

On the promenade deck, their steamer 
chairs fitted snugly in between the white 
superstructure of the smoking room, and 
the two great, rakishly slanting, black 
funnels with their broad white band near 
the top, with the black P on them, sat 
Archie, Billy snuggled cozily against him 
on one arm of his chair, Tom, his entire 
throat carefully bandaged, lying almost flat 
in his deck chair close to him, too, his brown, 
freckled face still pale, but a wide, friendly 
grin of contented drowsiness on his mouth 
as he looked out a little sleepily to sea, 
Archie’s big hand resting quietly over his 
boy’s tough, young paw as it rested on the 
chair arm opposite to the one on which Billy 
sat. On the same side as Billy, in another 
deck chair, was Don, sprawled out very 
comfortably, and squatting on the side of 
the big, ground-glass topped hatch that 
acted as skylight to the engine-room far 
below decks, was Pat Dean. 


26 o 


EIGHT BELLS 


“ Ho! You won’t have any trouble, 
Donny,” Pat was saying, swinging his body 
in time to the heaving pitch of the liner, 
“ ’cause the American Minister patched 
the whole bally thing up perfectly rippin’, 
and cabled all about you to your Navy 
Department, and so they won’t do a thing 
but be jolly glad to have you back at 
Annapolis, even if you have been absent 
without leave. Goodness knows it wasn’t 
your fault, what! And I say! Our 
Minister, Sir Claude Mallet, you know, 
cabled our Ambassador at Washington all 
about you, too, and, I say! his cable got 
there first! ” 

“ Roar on, oh British Lion! ” the Mid¬ 
shipman grinned. “ I don’t mind one little 
bit. Honest! Don’t believe, though, that 
I’ll be tickled silly if the Department sta¬ 
tions me on the Canal Zone, once I get my 
commission. I—I’m not so awfully crazy 
about the Isthmus, somehow! How about 
you, sir? ” to Archie. 

“ Why, Don,” that young man smiled, 
one hand still resting above Tom’s, one 
arm still thrown in careless affection about 


ANCHORS AWEIGH! 261 

the small Commodore’s supple, little body, 
“ you’ll be surprised, I know, but do you 
know I’m thinking a whole lot about 
coming back to Panama year after next, 
after I get my degree? And old Tommy, 
here, he says so, too. ’Course I wouldn’t 
come here, or anywhere else, without my 
buddy. We had some dandy talks with 
your engineering friends, Brown and Drake, 
while Tom and I were laid up in Ancon 
Hospital. And those two boys love the 
place, and the work, and the life such a lot 
that they make other fellows love it, too, 
along with them. They believe in the work, 
heart and soul, and, well! Reckon Tom and 
I believe in it, too. And then, who’ll ever 
forget that Bayard of the Canal Zone, Don, 
sans peur et sans reproche , Gorgas, I mean. 
Don, he’s—he’s a mixture, just a wonder¬ 
fully glorious mixture, of Lord Chesterfield, 
and Great Heart, out of Pilgrim s Progress . 
No fellow with any of the right stuff in him, 
can help loving a man like that, and wanting 
to be near him, and work his hands off for 
him if necessary. He saw Tom and me two 
and three times a day, sometimes, all the 



262 


EIGHT BELLS 


time we were at Ancon, even though, as 
Chief Sanitary Officer, his time is filled up 
almost to the breaking point. Why, even 
young Brown admits that it is Gorgas and 
his crowd that will make the canal digging 
possible for America, where France failed. 
And he said there’d be room for me. I’m 
poor as the dickens, you know—clothes to 
the contrary. Of course, as this hard 
boiled, old Commodore’s A. D. C., I had to 
dress the part, but if you’d see me at Oxford 
’long with the other Rhodes Scholarship 
chaps, you’d see a mighty different looking 
fellow, and a mighty different wardrobe. 
When the kid, here, was pretty sick and 
miserable, the Colonel was mighty good to 
him. I won’t forget his face as he bowed that 
graciously handsome, silvered head of his 
over Tom’s cot, and laid his hand on the 
dear, old husky’s hair, and told him, with 
that gentle laugh of his, just for all the world 
as if Tom and I had been his boys—and he 
really felt that way, too, for there’s not one 
ounce of bluff about Colonel Gorgas—that 
fellows who’d been through what we had, 
should be able to snap their fingers at yellow 




ANCHORS AWEIGH! 


263 

fever mosquitoes, and that he’d remember 
the pair of us, whether we forgot him, or 
not. As if any fellow could forget the 
Colonel! Gee! D’you suppose the Round 
Table ever forget their Arthur, or those same 
Knights of the Holy Grail, their Galahad?” 

There was a long pause, the stars swinging 
low on the horizon as they do in the tropics, 
the phosphorous dancing its unearthly, 
Will-o’-the-wisp lights over the long swells 
of the Caribbean, the fire in the bowl of 
Archie’s short, “ bull-dog ” pipe glowing 
cozily. 

“ Heigh-ho! ” that young husky yawned 
at last: “ Its ’most eight o’clock, I bet! 
They surely did get the old ‘ Colon ’ out of 
her berth good and late! Gosh! ‘ How time 
do fly,’ as the little girl said; that is, when a 
fellow’s comfortable, and knows that his 
kids are all safe! Feeling better, Tom? ” 

“I’m feelin’ great, Archie! ” the once- 
upon-a-time pirate boy answered happily, 
smiling up from his cushions. “ Hul-ly 
Gee! Guess I’ve got a right to feel good, 
haven’t I? Huh? Why, fellow, I’m goin’ 
home! We’re all of us goin’ home! An’ 


264 


EIGHT BELLS 


I’ll have a real, sure ’nough home now, you 
bet! You said I could stay with you after 
you’d turned our Commodore over to his 
folks; an’ I can, can’t I, Archie? ” 

“ You bet you can! Didn’t I say we’d 
always stick together, you and I, that time 
over in the bungalow among the poinsettias? 
And we’ll always live ‘ happy ever after,’ 
and be ‘ awfully good pals,’ like Patsie, 
here, and Ezabelita.” 

“ Sure, Archie! ” from Tom. “ An’ me 
an you’ll help each other do that job we’ve 
talked about such a lot since we’ve been in 
sick bay, at Ancon, won’t we? You know! 
Findin’ that red headed kid—Wes’ Blain. 
They—they marked him—Alf told me— 
with that—that black cross, but that 
’most usually meant keepin’ a fellow safe for 
some future use, not killin’ him, only it 
meant, too, that the Tong was to strangle 
him if he ever did try for a getaway. Wes’ 
was so awful scared of Kum-Sing, though, 
that I don’t believe he’d ever try to run 
off. An’—an’ he wouldn’t get far, if he did 
try. An’, Gee! I sure hope Wes’ didn’t 
try! He’d never make it. He wasn’t 





ANCHORS AWEIGH! 


265 


husky, like me, Archie. Sort of tough, all 
right, but real lean, an’ he was short, too, 
for sixteen, and he used to play out awful 
quick, I remember. But I sort of think 
we’ll find him, don’t you, Archie? ” 

“We’ll try to find him all right, Tom,” 
Archie assented heartily. “ And I cannot 
help believing that we will, too, and— 
Hul-lo! Listen to that, fellows! It’s the 
first time in ages that I’ve heard that sound 
without jumping out of my skin! Fact! ” 
And he smiled a little grimly as over the 
great, tumbling swells of the old Caribbean 
came the familiar sound—Eight Bells! 


The End 


























































































































